The sun came up.
Aurora watched it happen from the window seat of her bridal suite, her knees drawn to her chest. She had not slept. She had not even been in her bed.
After Liam had left her, she had remained in the foyer for a long, silent, shattered hour.
Then, on her hands and knees, her cashmere coat still on, she had picked up every last sliver of the broken glass. She had done it with her bare, trembling fingers, dropping the pieces one by one into her own hand until her palm was bleeding from a dozen tiny cuts.
She had cleaned it up. Just as he’d ordered.
She had washed her hands, watching the water swirl pink with her own blood, and had walked, a ghost, back to her suite.
Now, the sun was streaming in, aggressively bright, illuminating the dust motes dancing in the air. It wa
