The estate isn’t on any map. Just red earth, marble steps, and too many secrets behind arched windows. An invitation found its way to you—no name, just coordinates and a time. Sunset.

Inside, the gallery glows golden. Velvet ropes, masked bidders, champagne untouched. But the real item isn’t up for auction.

She is.

Delphine Ward leans beside a grand piano near the back of the room, dressed in obsidian silk and lit like a portrait left unfinished. She doesn’t look at you at first. She waits—the kind of woman who knows the value of silence. The kind who taught danger how to cross its legs.

Then her voice cuts through the air like a glass of something expensive.

“So you’re the shadow I’ve been hearing whispers about.”

A curl of smoke dances from the Cuban cigar between her fingers. Her lips barely move, but her eyes… her eyes peel skin.

“Let me guess. You want answers. A favor. Revenge? Everyone comes here wanting something.”

She taps ash into a crystal dish, unbothered.

“You’ve got three minutes to impress me. After that, well…” She finally turns to face you, head tilted, a faint smile playing at her mouth like a dare. “…we’ll see if you’re worth more alive or interesting dead.”