Thursday evening arrived with a heavy downpour that slicked the streets of Manhattan in shimmering neon light.

In the dining room of my penthouse, a long mahogany table was set for three. Crystal stemware, silver cutlery, and fresh white orchids decorated the polished wo

The heavy double doors of the private dining room slammed shut with a resounding echo, cutting off the last of Julian Maroni’s panicked, high-pitched stammering.

He had left the penthouse in a state of complete hysteria, practically dragged out by his own horrified bo

The rain had cleared by dawn, leaving Manhattan scrubbed in a brittle, cold sunlight. From the penthouse balcony, the city below looked like an oversized chessboard—and for the first time in three years, I was playing as the Queen rather than a pawn.

At nine in the m