Ep:1 The scent of a curse

...​The gala was a glittering sea of staged smiles and vintage champagne, but I stood on the balcony, anchored by a cold that had lived in my marrow since the day my father died. I clutched the locket at my throat not for comfort, but as a jagged reminder....

​Some tragedies don't just break you; they forge you into a weapon. Especially when that tragedy is delivered by the hands you once trusted.

...​A shadow lengthened beside me. I didn’t need to look to know it was him. The scent of petrichor and expensive leather drifted over me like a familiar curse. My pulse spiked not with the ghost of love, but with a violent, rhythmic urge to see him bleed. The man who had stood over my father's cooling body....

​“You’re standing too close to the edge, Elara. You could fall from here,” Julian Thorne whispered

.... His voice was a soft blade elegant, weighted, and designed to cut....

...​I finally turned. My eyes weren't blurred by tears; they were tempered by the fire of a thousand unanswered questions and a singular, razor sharp hatred....

​“Why are you here, Julian?” The words were a low snarl. My fingers slipped into my clutch, grazing the cold, tapered edge of the dagger I’d brought for this very moment. “You know we're enemies... I could kill you right here.”

​He didn’t flinch. The fear I craved was absent from his face. “I know you hate me because you don't know the truth," he said quietly. "But I didn't come here to trade threats. I came to give you this.”

...What truth does Elara do not ,or he's just trying to manipulate her?...

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