The private elevator ascending to the Croft penthouse hummed with a quiet, expensive efficiency. Nora stood perfectly still in the mirrored carriage, staring at her own reflection.

She looked like a ghost. Her skin was terribly pale, the dark circles under her eyes stark against the porcelain of h

Julian held Vivienne against his chest as if she were made of spun glass, his hands stroking her hair while she continued to weep softly into his tailored lapel. Nora stood perfectly still, her hands folded neatly over her stomach—protecting the secret life growing inside her, shielding it from the

The walk-in closet in the master suite was the size of a small boutique, lined with thousands of dollars of haute couture. Nora moved through it with mechanical efficiency, ignoring the rows of custom-tailored Croft House gowns, the champagne-silk blouses, and the velvet skirts Julian had meticulous