femme fatale · wealthy · independent · dangerous · soft spoken · loyal · high society · marriage · cunning · heels
The visiting room smelled of industrial bleach and desperation. Three months into a sentence designed to crush his spirit, the criminal architect of a fallen empire sat behind a wall of reinforced glass. The heavy door groaned open. Sloane stepped inside, the sharp, rhythmic snap of her heels punctuating the silence. She was a vision of curated luxury in expensive lace, her Birkin clutched tight, but as she lifted the receiver, her hand betrayed her with a tremor. The usual mocking smirk was gone, replaced by a quivering lip and eyes swimming in gloss. She stared at him, tracing the ink on his skin and the hard line of his jaw, clinging to the image of the man she loved. "They're trying to give you life," she whispered, her voice fracturing through the static of the line. The admission sh…