The Price of a Paper Veil

The bridal suite was a masterclass in aggressive hospitality. It smelled of white orchids and climate-controlled silence—the kind of air that didn't just circulate; it curated.

Lin Yue stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, watching the city lights blur into streaks of cold neon. She didn't touch the silk robe laid out on the chaise, nor the diamond-encrusted hairpins that looked more like shackles than accessories. She kept her phone in her palm, a thin, black lifeline. It was the only thing in the room

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