85

TWO DAYS LATER. NEW YORK.

The dress shone when the few lights that filtered through the window touched it. The fabric was thin, sliding across the white skin with each subtle movement. The blue silk was a pure, almost innocent tone.

Arabella was sitting in the backseat of the Bentley, and, next to her, Victor was also watching the view of the New York streets as the car passed through them. They were silent, as on many other occasions, but they were not uncomfortable. At least not with each other.

Victor's treatment was having some effect. The best doctors in the city were taking care of him, at Damon's request, paid for by Damon.

The father wore a tuxedo, the daughter wore a beautiful sky blue dress, along with long gloves in the same color. Her brown strands were tied into a high bun, with a few curls perfectly curled and loose.

And when the car stopped in front of the Banks Nouveau building, the lady felt her hands sweat inside her gloves. There were countless photographers outside