The first pale ribbons of lavender dawn filtered through the heavy silk draperies of the Fifth Avenue townhouse, casting cold, gray shadows across the empty master bedroom. Elena Bellini-Falco stood before the full-length mirror in her private dressing suite, fastening the mother-of-pearl buttons of a crisp white silk blouse with steady, practiced fingers. She wore a tailored black wool pencil skirt and low pumps, her copper-auburn hair brushed into a…
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