The chandelier in the Grand Ballroom of the Pierre Hotel cast a sharp, diamond light over the crowd.

I adjusted the strap of my emerald silk gown, my fingers cold.

The air smelled of expensive perfume, melting wax, and champagne.

Beside me, Adrian Vale stood with his hands clasped behind his back.

His tailored tuxedo fit him like armor, his dark eyes fixed on the far end of the room.

“He is here, Claire,” Adrian murmured.

I followed his gaze through the sea of tuxedos and glittering gowns.

My ex-husband, Grant, was standing near the ice sculpture, a glass of champagne in his hand.

His new wife, Sienna, clung to his arm, her eyes glued to her phone as she took a quick selfie.

Grant laughed at something a guest said, his teeth bright and white.

Seeing him made my stomach twist, a reminder of the forgery charges he had framed me for to protect his own name.

“Let us finish this,” Adrian said, his voice dangerously quiet.

We walked toward them, the crowd parting slightly for Adrian.

As a billionaire, Adrian commanded the room without trying.

Grant turned, his smile freezing when he saw us.

“Claire,” Grant said, his eyes narrowing as he set his glass down. “And Mr. Vale. I didn’t think you two ran in the same circles.”

“We have common interests, Grant,” Adrian said.

Sienna lowered her phone, looking between us with sudden curiosity.

“What kind of interests?” she asked, her voice high and youthful.

“The search for my family’s stolen art collection,” Adrian said. “Specifically, the 1912 Modigliani portrait that disappeared from my late father’s estate.”

Grant’s grip tightened on the edge of the table.

“I’m a real estate developer, Adrian. I don’t know anything about missing masterpieces.”

“You do,” I said, stepping forward so he had to look me in the eye. “I saw the shipping manifests in your desk, Grant. You used your cargo containers to smuggle it into the private marina.”

A few nearby guests paused, turning their heads to listen to our conversation.

Sienna looked at Grant, her brow furrowing as she touched his sleeve. “Grant? What is she talking about?”