pte

h the Sur

vered over numbers and clauses he could recite backward. His chest felt hollow, a pr

e's absence had evolved from silence into an invisible presence, haunting

uldn't accuse. He'd watch

to Geneva, he merely nodded. Work had become a haven its precision, its

clawed at his throat now whispered like a lullaby. The night was no longer a

arah had long been reduced to duty and dull exchanges-rituals of food, silence, and sleep. No curiosity. No warmth. Sex was

e Anthoni

she craved rebellion as much as she craved touch. She first met Martin at a fundraising gala, whe

under an awning behind a hotel where her husband slept two floors up. Her lips were hungry, d

ngertips, just heat pressed against a wa

, she invited him

r affair beg

s, reverent. The sex wasn't rough at first. It was exploratory. Martin trembled under her touch; Anthon

dfold. Whispered things into his ear. Told him to wait while sh

ed her s

lled hi

rapment, something deeper than lust. She scratched his back so hard once he bled. And when he told her

im slowly, her back arched like a dancer mid-flight. She came first-hard and silent. He followed

orgasm was a step toward implosion. Eve

dly, tied to a minor civil suit that should've nev

file, he found a note tucked in the cas

e. But I mi

ands t

r. The lights were off, but her car was there. A thousand im

home. But inside, something

dinner, called him "a ghost w

fice. Inside: a pair of his cufflinks he'd los

s his heart pounded with dang

had re

't wrapped in soft silk

lled li