The cool night air wrapped around me as I scanned the terrace for Clara Beaumont. The sounds of the banquet faded slightly, though the music and laughter still carried through the open doors. I moved cautiously, making sure to stay in the well-lit section where other guests mingled with drinks in hand.
No sign of Clara yet.
A tall man in an expensive suit approached me, his smile too wide and too practiced.
"Mrs. Sterling, we haven't been properly introduced. I'm Malcolm Reed, associate of—"
"Excuse me," I said, cutting him off politely. "I need a moment alone."
His face fell, but he nodded and retreated. I'd grown accustomed to these approaches—business vultures circling Arthur's wife, hoping for an inside connection. Right now, I had more pressing concerns.
I checked my phone again. Five minutes had passed since Clara's message, but she was nowhere to be seen. Had she changed her mind? Or was this some kind of setup?
