She tilted her chin, her voice cutting like glass. “You’ll find out soon enough.”
Before he could press further, a sleek black SUV rolled to a stop nearby. The driver, an impeccably dressed man, stepped out with an air of quiet authority.
“Miss Mancini,” he said, bowing slightly. “Your fiancé awaits.”
Seraphine didn’t look back as she walked toward the vehicle, ignoring the shock in Luther’s eyes. The door closed behind her with a resolute click, leaving Luther standing alone on the darkened street.
The golden hues of the late afternoon sun faded into twilight, casting long shadows over the North Suburb’s gleaming high-rises.
From her vantage point near the entrance, Seraphine Mancini caught sight of Luther Harword stepping out of an elevator, Cornelia at his side.
Their arms were loaded with shopping bags from the upscale supermarket nearby. To the casual observer, they looked every bit the picture of domestic bliss. To Seraphine, it was a final, painful reminder of everything she had already lost.