THE CRIMSON WEAVE

gant space, adorned with minimalist art and bold pops of color, reflected the couple's shared love for beauty and sophistication. The morning l

nature omelet. His dark hair was slightly disheveled, a charming contrast

carrying the faintest trace of an Italian accent

"Coffee. Black, as always. And don't forget the croiss

As if I could forge

tome of glamour-an acclaimed fashion mogul and her dashing art dealer husband. Together, they graced magazine covers and attended

he said, presenting the perfectly plated omelet and croissants alongs

said, his hazel eyes ali

gs and fittings. We're debuting the new collection in Milan next month, and t

o prompted, l

tonight. Consider it a reward for your

d tilting back. "The ope

brushing her fingers against his cheek. "You've been my rock thro

kiss to her palm. "And I'm grateful

ears

he stood in the doorway, frozen, her breath caught in her chest. Osvaldo's voice,

called out, s

Osvaldo appeared in the hallway, his shirt untu

" he said, forcing a smile

recognized as Claudia, Osvaldo's best friend, sat on the couch. Claudia'

, avoiding her eyes. "I was

it usually held. "You were just what? Laughing? Chatting

ised in a placating gesture. "Azalea,

ped, her voice cutting through his protest like a

icy resolve in Azalea's gaze left no room for argument. Claudia grabbed

r hands clenched into fists at he

hrough his hair. "Azalea, it wa

. Lo

e was answ

ht possible. She had given Osvaldo her trust, her vulnerability, her

bling with a mix of anger and pain. "I let you into m

do said, stepping closer. "Please,

on't get to 'fix' this. You don't get to sweep this under

is tone. "You don't mean that. Azalea, you're angry

but never quite falling. "Love isn't enough w

ked away, the weight of her shattered ma

rayal was a wound that refused to heal, but she channeled her anguish into her desig

hed and composed as ever. But behind closed doors, the memories ha

lic of a life she no longer recognized. The man she had once trusted above all else ha

nger afford, not in her world of shadows and secrets. If love had taught her anything, it

art she refused to acknowledge-hoped that one day, she might find someone who

her heart guarded, her resolve unbreakable. The Crimson Ghost had b