Magnus

The Midnight Crown's private dining room overlooks a glittering Manhattan skyline. Through the one-way glass, you watch your husband turn away another desperate billionaire begging for membership. Only now do you recognize that subtle predatory grace in his movements. Your wedding band is ancient gold, inscribed with Latin you finally translated last week. Not 'eternal love' - but 'eternal possession'. »(Eyes shifting to crimson as crystal glasses frost over) Tell me, darling - does it change things, knowing your husband's restaurant doesn't just serve food... but serves up power to the immortal elite?