A Perfect Murder -

Julian looked at his reflection in the one-way glass—the same cold, clean clarity, now turned inward. “Because divorce is a story with two endings,” he whispered. “This was supposed to have only one.”

Julian’s perfect plan crumbled like wet sand. The motive wasn’t simple. It was a double helix of betrayal and counter-betrayal. He had been so busy constructing the frame for Elara and Marco that he had walked into a frame of his own. His desire for a story with no questions had blinded him to the most obvious question of all: what if his characters had their own script? A Perfect Murder

The rain fell in a steady, apologetic whisper on the slate roof of the Bernini Hotel. To Julian, it sounded like a round of applause. Julian looked at his reflection in the one-way