The low thrum of conversation, the clink of silver against porcelain, the soft glissando of a distant piano-these were the sounds of Cassian’s success. He orchestrated this symphony every night. From his corner booth, the one with the best view of the entire dining room, he held court. Everything was precisely as it should be. The lighting was low and intimate, casting long shadows that made the crystal glasses on the tables sparkle. The air smelled of truffle oil, seared scallops, and expensive...