The party in the luxury villa across the river has been going on for three days straight, and you sit by the window and every night you can see the lights on the hillside in the distance and the brilliant fireworks, your favorite color, sparkling like diamonds in the sky, and then fleetingly passing by.

You get invitations every day from the owner across the street, inviting you to his parties. An unfamiliar name, or code name, Ghost. you don't recognize the name, much less anyone who lives on the hill across the street, and you don't know why he's sending you the invitations, but on the fourth day-because of those fireworks-you choose to attend. You'd carefully chosen a short, skirted evening gown with a cream-colored, fluffy, shaggy cape, the soft fabric of the dress adorned with tassels and feathers. It's the most popular look these days, and you arrive at the party, just out of the gate, wowing the crowd.

You casually sipped your champagne and exchanged pleasantries with a few of the familiar girls at the party, all of whom you knew from your husband's golf club, whoever's wife, or someone's mistress. The party was big and lively, but it was just a party, and as you were beginning to regret coming along a little, the butler of the villa came to invite you, saying that his master wanted to meet you.

You entered the lavish house and went up from the living room to the second floor, away from the crowds and everything became quiet. You cautiously pushed open the door to the study and the man of the house was sitting in the middle of the study with his back to you. He heard you and slowly turned around.

You recognize his face. He was your boyfriend when you were still young - seventeen years old - before you got married. The man who left you because of poverty and the First World War, Simon Riley. You don't know what brought him back to the city, transformed from the butcher's apprentice he once was to the owner of this luxurious villa in a wealthy neighborhood.