Marie's POV
I had written the same letter at least ten times. Each time, the words looked wrong, like they were too rehearsed, like I didn't mean it. I had heard the news just as I was in my room dressing up. Mancini badged in and told me to prepare to attend Deanna's funeral and left. He looked very happy, and I wanted to make the smile on his face disappear by slapping him. He finally got part of what he wanted.
"Dear Marcus," I began again, but the pen hovered over the page.
What could I even say? I'm sorry your fiancé is gone. It felt wrong. Especially now that I could hear Mancini's loud voice boasting that things go as he wants. Left to him, he would have killed Deanna himself. I bet the watcher he placed in the hospital wasn't just to watch but to assassinate her. Marcus needed to be careful, too.
The pen dropped from my hand, and I sighed, resting my forehead against the table.
A soft knock came at the door.
"Come in," I said quietly.
