The laptop screen went black, the crisp, authoritative image of the board of directors vanishing into the dark reflection of the monitor. The sudden silence in the grand cathedral was deafening, a heavy, suffocating blanket that settled over the hundreds of elite guests trapped in the pews. The only

Desmond remained frozen on his knees, staring blankly at the crystal flute on the altar. The fake diamond sat at the bottom of the glass, magnified by the golden liquid, looking absurdly large and entirely worthless. The bubbles clung to the cheap stone, rising to the surface in a mocking, silent pa

The silence in the grand cathedral was absolute, broken only by the ragged, wheezing sounds of Desmond Vance trying to draw breath. He stared at Vivienne’s outstretched finger, then down at his own heavily bandaged left hand. The puzzle pieces finally snapped together, slicing through his arrogance