Chapter 8

Clara looked down at the man weeping at her feet.

Three years ago, seeing Julian Thorne cry would have shattered her heart into a million irreparable pieces. She would have dropped to her knees beside him, pulled his head to her chest, and done whatever it took to absorb his pain.

Tod

Chapter 9

The atmosphere inside *Le Bouclier*, Manhattan's most exclusive French dining establishment, was a symphony of clinking crystal, hushed conversations, and the faint, ambient notes of a cello playing in the corner. Clara Vance sat alone at a corner table, a glass of vintage Bordeaux restin

Chapter 10

The interior of Clara's new Brooklyn laboratory was a cathedral of modern science. Sleek stainless steel vats lined the walls, connected by a complex labyrinth of glass tubing and digital pressure monitors. Under normal circumstances, the room smelled of raw, unrefined brilliance—notes o