Rain hammered against the towering windows of the Beaumont Estate on the northern edge of New Orleans, Louisiana, where mansions slept behind iron gates and manicured lawns. Inside, the chandeliers glistened and classical music floated through the hall, muted by stormy winds. Silas Beaumont, a technology magnate admired across the country, stood barefoot on the marble floor of his private ballroom. He was known for investments, charity galas, and a smile that looked like it had been carved by sculptors, yet his heart was restless.
He adjusted the cuff of his tailored shirt and stared at the reflection in the glass. His own eyes looked back at him, filled with doubt. For months, people whispered that his fiancée loved his wealth more than his soul. He had brushed away the rumors. He believed in loyalty. He believed in seeing the best in people. Still, suspicion coiled through him like fog.
He murmured to himself, “Have you ever pretended to be broken, just to discover who would try to mend you?”
Only the storm answered.