Chapter 6 - The Return to the Ballroom
The private elevator glided downward with a soft, frictionless hum.
My reflection in the polished brass doors looked entirely different from the woman who had fled upstairs in a wine-stained dress twenty minutes earlier. The midnight-blue uniform was immaculate, every ribbon aligned to regulation, the gold buttons catching the overhead light.
When the elevator doors slid open, the heavy murmur of the Grand Ballroom washed over me instantly.
Laughter, clinking crystal, and polite applause filled the air. The string quartet tucked away in the corner was playing a soft classical arrangement, barely audible over the hum of two hundred distinguished guests mingling beneath the crystal chandeliers.
I stepped out of the elevator alcove and paused at the edge of the ballroom.
From my vantage point, I could see the central dais where my father stood holding a glass of scotch, surrounded by a tight cluster of admiring former officers and business associates. My mother and Kevin stood just a few feet away, basking in the reflected glow of my father's supposed legacy.
Nobody noticed me at first. In their minds, I was upstairs in a hotel room, humiliated, crying, or packing my bags to leave.
May you like
I took a deep breath, squared my shoulders, and began walking across the polished marble floor.
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