Chapter 31 Torn Vows And Velvet Knives

• The night air was thick with tension as Sandra leaned against the terrace rail of the Lancaster penthouse, the city lights below flickering like dying embers. Her silk robe clung to her skin, still damp from the heat of her earlier confrontation with Steve.
• Inside, the silence was deceptive.
• Steve stood near the fireplace, nursing a glass of bourbon, his shirt unbuttoned, jaw tight, eyes tracking her every movement like she was a problem he couldn’t solve but didn’t want to lose.