ELENA
I had really looked forward to tonight.
I’d picked out my dress earlier in the week—something soft, not too formal. Light blue, with flutter sleeves and a cinched waist. I even dabbed on perfume, something floral and subtle—nothing I would’ve dared wear back when I was a rogue, when every scent had to be masked, not noticed.
It felt good to have something to celebrate, something personal. Something that wasn’t a crisis or a press event or another late-night strategy meeting. And after everything with the Foundation finally coming together, after weeks of feeling like I was drowning in logistics and scrutiny, this felt… different. A break. A breath.
I’d also let go of some of my resentment.
Not all of it—but enough.
Derek had said things that cut deeply when I was with Silvercla
