"Mr Thorne will speak at 8 PM."
Aria checked her watch. 7:50 PM. Ten minutes until Marcus took the stage.
She'd positioned herself near the back of the Great Hall. She was close enough to see everything.
The Metropolitan Museum gala was in full swing—three hundred guests in evening wear. Champagne flowing. Classical music is playing softly in the background.
And somewhere in this crowd, Vera was planning Marcus's death.
Aria's phone had buzzed an hour ago. A message from Vera.
Enjoy the show tonight, is Marcus Thorne's final performance. It's going to be unforgettable. And you, sweet Aria, won't be able to stop it. Not this time. P.S. - I'm here too. Watching and waiting. Try and find me before it's too late.
Aria had searched the crowd for two hours. Looking for Vera's face. For anyone suspicious and for any sign of the trap.
Nothing.
