The first time Lena laid eyes on Sophie, it was in the dim, smoky glow of Le Rouge, a hidden jazz bar tucked beneath the cobblestone streets of Paris. The air was thick with the scent of aged whiskey and the sultry hum of a saxophone, the kind of place where secrets were whispered between the clink of glasses and the brush of strangers’ fingers. Lena had come alone, as she often did—her sharp wit and sharper tongue a shield against the loneliness of her high-profile job as a corporate lawyer. She was dressed in a sleek, black blazer that …