That morning, Avernon City was shrouded in a thin, cold fog, as if even the sky knew that a great storm was about to hit the land. Inside the penthouse, the atmosphere was tense. Alaric had left at dawn, leaving Anna under the close guard of four men in black suits at the door.
Anna sat on the edge of the bed, clutching the blanket that still retained the scent of Alaric's masculine cologne—a mixture of sandalwood and danger. Her eyes were puffy, but she couldn't stop staring at the television, which was on without sound.
The morning's top story.
"Evelyn Seraphina Taken Away on Suspicion of Fraud and Money Laundering."
The screen showed chaos. Evelyn, who usually looked perfect in designer dresses and a haughty smile, now looked pale. She tried to cover her face with her handbag as the flashes of the reporters' cameras hit her like bullets. Beside her, her father—Anna's father too—looked haggard, supported by the family lawyer who looked overwhelmed.
