Chapter 17 Night Without Bells

• Hotel Langridge, Geneva – Night
• As I offered Derek a hollow smile, pretending to toast beneath the pale glow from the glass ceiling, a part of me knew something was wrong. Not from what was said, but from what wasn’t.
• December dressed the city in soft lights and gold-trimmed shop windows. From the suite, I could see frost-covered rooftops and wreath reflections on frozen canals. The city celebrated. But in our world, no one slept. No one toasted sincerely. Here there was no peace—only tension and betrayal.