The armored Mercedes glided through the quiet midnight streets of Geneva, its high-powered headlights cutting through the descending alpine fog. Inside the rear cabin, Ava sat in rigid silence, her hands clasped tightly in her lap, her fingernails digging into her palms through her leather gloves. Valmont’s words at Beau-Rivage had shattered the fragile peace she had found after her father’s public vindication. The mention of her mother, Eleanor Montgomery,…
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