The world outside the train station, a swirling canvas of hurried commuters and exhaust fumes, seemed to shrink and hush the moment the matte black Rolls-Royce Ghost came into focus. It was a vehicle that didn't shout wealth; it simply existed in a different stratum, a mobile whisper of absolute, devastating power.
Luciano held Eloise's elbow, his grip possessive but not painful, a velvet shackle guiding her toward the open rear door.
Ian, stood beside it, his perfectly tailored suit a stark contrast to the urgency in his posture. His face, however, was a blank slate, a perfect, practiced mask of indifference.
As Eloise reluctantly climbed into the luxury car, sinking into the plush, custom-stitched leather seat, she saw Edward on the platform, staring after them. He stood frozen, a look of profound confusion and utter helplessness etched onto his kind face.
