The interior of the town car was silent, save for the rhythmic drumming of rain against the tinted windows and the incessant vibrating of Julian’s phone.

Clara sat on the far side of the leather seat, staring out at the blurred city lights of downtown Seattle. She wore a high-necked, long-sleeved

The hospital gala was in full swing, a blur of clinking glasses, string quartet music, and the low, wealthy hum of high-society networking.

Clara remained in the periphery, a shadow in her black dress, moving silently through the glittering crowd. After Marcus left her side to mingle with internat

The penthouse was suffocatingly quiet, the kind of silence that usually preceded a storm. But for Clara Hayes, the storm had already come and gone, leaving nothing but flattened earth and cold clarity in its wake.

She stood in the center of the expansive walk-in closet, her fingers lightly grazing