The gala hall glittered like a frozen constellation crystal chandeliers, polished marble floors, champagne flutes clinking softly like distant wind chimes. Camille stepped inside beside Dante, keeping her spine straight though her nerves vibrated beneath her skin. This wasn't just another event it was Elena's territory, and everyone here knew the scandal surrounding the three of them.
Dante's hand hovered near the small of her back not touching, but close enough to feel like a silent warning: I'm here. Stay beside me.
She inhaled slowly.
Let her try.
She wasn't the same girl Victor abandoned, and Elena wasn't going to break her again.
They moved through the hall, drawing attention effortlessly. Dante looked carved from midnight sharp suit, colder eyes, the kind of presence that bent people's attention without him saying a word. Camille felt the room shift around him like gravity rearranged.
But Elena was waiting.
