The Broken Mask

The morning sun broke over Lake Michigan in pale, watery streaks of gold.

In the sun-drenched breakfast pavilion overlooking the gardens, Genevieve sat in a white cashmere sweater, spreading marmalade onto a warm croissant. She looked fresh, innocent, and utterly radiant.

“You were quiet at the end of the evening, darling,” she purred, looking up as Alessandro stepped onto the terrace.