A woman, forgotten by most, stood near the back staircase.
She had been unlucky all evening, overlooked, dismissed.
Her hopes had been dashed hours ago when someone else took the chance she was too late to seize.
She'd been invisible, standing at the periphery of the glittering crowd, her pulse drumming a frantic beat against her throat.
But then… something shifted.
A mist, thick and red, seeped down the stairs beside her, trailing like blood-spilled wine, creeping across the floor with a quiet whisper of menace.
badump
She looked up—and her heart stopped.
There she was.
Barefoot. Silent. Her white gown shimmering like liquid moonlight, hugging the generous, unyielding curves of her hips and breasts. Her silver hair fell like a cascading river, gleaming beneath the chandelier's cold light.
