Chapter 234

• Leah's POV
• The limousine door hissed open, releasing me into a hurricane of camera flashes. Miami's salt-rotten breeze tangled with the stench of money and gardenias as I stepped onto the crimson carpet, Rafael Laflamme's final creation clinging to my thighs like a lover's last breath. The dress was a funeral shroud in reverse - black silk devoured by blood-red crystals, cut low enough to make the paparazzi forget their own names. Four tall, dark male models flanked me, their hollow-cheeked perfection a living barricade. I'd chosen them for their vacant eyes. Men who looked at nothing saw nothing.
• Whispers followed like gnats. Who is she? I smiled behind the lace mask, its spiderweb patterns itching my scars. Let them wonder. Let them choke on their own curiosity.