Clara Vance stood before the full-length mirror in her master bedroom, critically evaluating her reflection. She needed to look precisely like the woman Sloane Mercer thought she was: soft, dependent, and entirely unremarkable.

She opted for a high-necked, pastel-pink chiffon dress. It washed out

Julian Vance’s thirtieth birthday party was less a celebration of life and more a monument to his ego.

He had rented a sprawling, modern glass mansion in the Hollywood Hills, overlooking the glittering expanse of Los Angeles. The driveway was choked with Ferraris, McLarens, and a fleet of black SU

The morning sun filtered through the sheer curtains of the master bedroom, casting long, peaceful shadows across the hardwood floor.

Clara stood at the foot of the massive king-sized bed, methodically folding a stack of Julian’s expensive cashmere sweaters. An open, leather weekender bag sat on th