The gala shimmered beneath chandeliers that cast golden light across polished marble and silk-clad figures, yet beneath that elegance lingered something colder, something sharper, as though every smile carried weight and every glance held judgment that did not need to be spoken aloud.
Elara stood at the center of it.
Unmoving.
Perfect.
Her gown fell like quiet authority around her frame, her shoulders straight, her chin lifted just enough to command presence, though her fingers remained still at her side, too still, as though even the smallest motion might betray what lay beneath.
"You look perfect."
The voice came from beside her, low, steady, familiar, and Alessandro's presence settled next to hers like something both grounding and dangerous, his posture composed though his gaze flickered briefly across her face, searching for something deeper than what she allowed.
Elara's lips curved.
Flawless.
Measured.
A smile that did not reach her eyes.
