The world Evelyn Sterling returned to after the hospital's automatic doors sighed shut behind her was a flat, silent plane of ash. The gallery, once her sanctuary of curated beauty, felt like a mockery. The pristine white walls whispered of sterility, not sophistication. The hushed tones of wealthy patrons were an affront to the screams trapped in her own skull. She quit two weeks after Lara woke into silence, offering Marcus a vague story about a family crisis. His brief, disappointed nod was its own punishment.

Silas Vance's disposal of her was swift, surgical, and utterly devoid of the charm he had once wielded like a weapon. He summoned her to his office, not his penthouse. He didn't rise from behind his desk.