A few days have passed.
Three days of headlines, whispers, speculation, and the uncomfortable silence that followed Sebastian Henry everywhere he went. Solace had become a ghost of itself—half‑empty tables, staff speaking in hushed tones, Maya snapping at anyone who breathed too loudly.
And Sebastian?
He hadn’t shown up once.
Which was exactly why Dorian Hale chose tonight to dine there.
The restaurant was dimly lit, the atmosphere subdued but polished. Soft amber lights glowed against the dark wood panels, and the low murmur of conversation filled the space. Solace was trying to pretend nothing had happened, but the tension lingered like a shadow.
Dorian sat alone at a corner table, posture relaxed, suit immaculate, a glass of red wine swirling lazily in his hand. He looked like a
