The Morrison ballroom was still in chaos when Allison walked out.
Voices chased her all the way into the grand corridor—raised demands, shocked whispers, legal threats already forming in expensive mouths. Somewhere behind them, a glass shattered. A woman hissed someone's name. Richard Morrison was barking for the projection system to be seized. Martha sounded shriller than Allison had ever heard her.
Good.
Let them drown in it.
Allison didn't look back.
The emerald silk of her gown whispered around her ankles as she moved through the corridor with Adrian Croft at one side and Susanna at the other. Behind them, Lucian followed at an easy, controlled pace, close enough to be felt, not close enough to crowd. The quiet gravity of him settled at Allison's back like a second line of defense.
For the first time in months—
No.
For the first time since she stepped into this house and made herself smaller to survive it—
Allison did not feel alone.
