MY FAMILY THOUGHT I WAS THE LEAST IMPORTANT PERSON IN THAT BALLROOM—UNTIL I WALKED BACK THROUGH THOSE DOORS IN A TWO-STAR GENERAL’S UNIFORM. THE LOOK ON MY FATHER’S FACE TOLD ME HE FINALLY UNDERSTOOD EXACTLY WHO HE HAD BEEN MOCKING

For a long moment, nobody moved.

My father took a sip of his scotch, already turning his attention back toward his former colleagues. Kevin smirked into his glass, and my mother adjusted her diamond necklace with an expression of quiet triumph. They had successfully shoved me back into my designated box: the awkward, unfashionable, disappointing daughter who didn't belong in polite society.

“Did you hear your father, Elena?” Mom prompted, her voice dripping with false sweetness. “Go upstairs and clean yourself up. Or better yet, just take a cab home. We wouldn't want you ruining any more photos.”

I didn't yell. I didn't throw my glass of water in their faces, satisfying every stereotype they held about my supposed instability.

Instead, I looked each of them in the eye.

“Enjoy the evening, Dad,” I said quietly.

Without another word, I turned on my heel and walked away from the group, my posture straight, ignoring the damp fabric clinging to my ribs. As I crossed the polished marble floor toward the grand staircase, I could hear Kevin murmuring something snide to our mother, followed by a soft snort of laughter.

Let them laugh.

Let them enjoy every second of their little kingdom while it lasted.

I took the private elevator up to the top floor of the hotel, where my suite had been reserved under a different name. The room was quiet, pristine, and entirely detached from the noise of the ballroom below.

I walked straight to the closet, slid open the garment bag hanging in the back, and reached inside.