Clara
The ballroom Victoria had rented for the occasion made the Kingsley gala from months ago look modest by comparison, chandeliers doubled and redoubled in the reflection of gilded mirrors, an orchestra playing something sweeping and romantic that felt almost cruel given the circumstances beneath the celebration.
I stood beside Sebastian near the entrance, both of us dressed for exactly the performance the evening demanded, his hand resting at the small of my back with practiced ease as photographers captured our arrival. Victoria greeted us with visible relief, clearly satisfied that we'd committed fully to the theater of it.
"You look radiant, darling," she said, kissing my cheek with the particular warmth she reserved for moments when I was successfully performing exactly the role
