The annual Cole Foundation Charity Gala was, by every metric, an astounding triumph. Crystal chandeliers cast a radiant light over three hundred high-society guests in tailored tuxedos and couture gowns. Photographers' flashes popped like silver lightning near the grand entrance, and the smooth, synchronized melodies of a live string quartet swept through the expansive ballroom.
Yet for Javed, the opulent celebration felt like an execution chamber.
Standing near the champagne tower with a tablet tucked under his arm, Javed could barely breathe. His tuxedo felt suffocatingly tight around his chest. Every time he looked up, he met the icy, unreadable gaze of David standing across the floor.
David hadn't spoken more than ten words to him all evening. He moved through the crowd like a ghost
