Penelope's POV
Maya and I made our way back into the elegant ballroom, our arms intertwined in a display of mutual support. Each step forward felt stronger with her beside me, her presence anchoring me to the ground when everything else seemed to spin out of control.
"Are you really alright?" Maya murmured close to my ear, her grip on my arm firm and reassuring.
"I will be," I replied, forcing what I hoped looked like a genuine smile across my lips.
That was precisely when Philip materialized from the crowd. He emerged from a cluster of guests gathered near the grand marble staircase, moving toward us with that effortless poise that seemed as natural to him as breathing. His face carried traces of genuine worry, the kind that stemmed from authentic care rather than mere social obligation.
"Penelope," he said when he reached us, his tone measured and courteous in that distinctly refined way I had grown accustomed to. "Could I have a word with you privately?"
