I Died At Her Royal Wedding
Language: en
Tonight, the rain was a relentless gray curtain over the city. I was finishing my shift, driving my Lyft XL, when I picked up a high-end fare from The Sovereign—the kind of exclusive members-only club where the initiation fee alone could buy a house. The destination, however, was a jarring contrast: a crumbling block in the East End, a place the locals called "The Sink," where the streetlights were mostly shadows and the air tasted like damp concrete. A man, dressed in a suit that cost more than my car, helped a woman into the backseat. She was breathtaking, draped in silk and smelling of…