Chapter 52

Rita sprawled across the sofa in her apartment, the silky burgundy nightgown clinging to her curves as if it had been made for her alone.

Between her fingers dangled a lit cigarette, while in her other hand she held a photograph. She drew in a long puff, then exhaled slowly, the smoke curling over the picture as her eyes grew distant.

The photo captured a man and a woman locked in what seemed like eternal bliss. The man's smile was dazzling, the sort that could effortlessly win hearts.The woman, cloaked in a pure white gown and veil,leaned against him with all the warmth of a bride lost in love.

Rita studied the image for what felt like an eternity,then snapped open her lighter with a sharp flick.

Fire licked at the edges, creeping inward until the photo was consumed. The acrid scent filled the room as the man's bright grin warped and disappeared in the flames.

In the glow of the firelight, the bride's face seemed to melt into Rita's own features, blurring the line between them.

Rita's voice was soft, almost tender, as though speaking to someone far away. "Liam, you'd want me to live well, wouldn't you? Once Julian and I are married, I'll be sure to honor you."

The last ember broke apart in her hand, crumbling into ash.

From this moment forward, there would only be Rita,and her heart would belong to Julian alone.

The sudden pounding on the door shattered the silence, heavy and urgent. Startled, Rita flinched,realizing too late that the cigarette had burned down to her fingers. She hissed at the sting and dropped it,cradling the small burn. A chill of unease began coiling in her chest. Hastily, she threw open a window, letting the burnt-plastic smell drift away, then walked toward the door.On the other side stood Morton.

Rita's eyes widened. "Morton? What are you doing here?"

He offered a polite, practiced smile. "Mr. Powell asked me to escort you to the Golden Sea Hotel.He's waiting for you in the penthouse suite."

Her eyes grew wider still, her surprise giving way to a rush of breathless emotion.

The invitation had come at midnight-Julian, asking her to meet him alone in the penthouse suite of a five-star hotel.

Rita had always assumed his stoic nature would make him slow to desire her, yet the urgency of this invitation thrilled her.

Feigning shyness, she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and murmured softly, "Give me a moment. I'll change into something proper." Morton inclined his head with practiced courtesy, his expression unshaken even as her nightgown clung provocatively to her figure.

When she emerged, she wore a white dress, pure and flowing. The choice was intentional. The first time she had met Julian abroad, she had worn something just like it-and both he and Liam Turner,still friends then, had been mesmerized by her beauty.

The Golden Sea Hotel rose like a jewel in Kumvine, its gilded facade gleaming under the night sky. Inside,every chandelier and marble pillar seemed to whisper wealth, as though even drawing breath there carried a price.

At the very top sat the penthouse suite, Julian's private sanctuary-lavish, untouchable, forbidden to all but him.

Morton delivered her to the door, bowed, and departed without a word. Rita barely spared him a glance. Excitement and anticipation carried her across the threshold. The thick wool carpet cushioned her steps, making her feel as if she were walking on clouds.

The suite was cloaked in darkness, lit only by a thin wash of moonlight spilling through the window. A figure sat in shadow, motionless in the distance.

Her lips curled into a playful smile. "Julian,why don't you turn on the lights?" she teased, her voice soft and coy.

The shadow stirred but offered no reply. A chill crawled up Rita's spine, smothering the giddy rush that had carried her here. Doubt tugged at her steps,yet curiosity pulled her forward, each pace more hesitant than the last.

Without warning, the suite flooded with light. Rita flinched, raising a hand to shield her eyes until they adjusted.When her vision cleared, the smile froze on her lips and drained into horror.

Janet sat lashed to a chair, her wrists and ankles bound, her mouth sealed tight with tape. Tears streaked down her cheeks as she thrashed helplessly, eyes wide with terror, shaking her head as if to scream a desperate plea Rita could not hear.