Serena wasn’t just the “pretty wife” people whispered about at charity galas. She was sharp, warm, and fearless in rooms full of powerful men. For years, she’d been the one who softened Grant Holloway, the real-estate titan everyone in the city either feared or courted. Her photo sat beside the sealed casket, Serena smiling in a deep red dress from a museum fundraiser, bright against the dull stone and dark umbrellas.

Grant stood perfectly still, like a man who’d forgotten how to breathe.

Around him, the city’s elite murmured in tidy voices.

“They say the crash was horrific,” a woman in designer black whispered, adjusting her sunglasses even though the sun wasn’t out.

“Closed case. Quick paperwork,” another replied. “You know how fast things move when the right people want them to.”