I can’t breathe.
“Oi.” Mike nudges me. “Where’d you go? You’re off with the fairies tonight.”
I blink. Swallow hard against the lump in my throat.Get a fucking grip.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I rasp.
I am not fucking fine.
Edward shifts, his stance easing, and oh god, he’s turning this way.
Before I can think, I duck—full-on, cartoon-levelduck—behind a massive pillar.
My heart hammers mercilessly against my ribs, blood roaring in my ears.
What the actual fuck am I doing?
I press a hand to my chest, forcing air into my lungs. My dress feels too tight now, like the satin is suffocating me, squeezing my breath right out of me.
Old Daisy would’ve marched straight over like a woman scorned, splashed champagne in his face or draped myself over Mike just to watch Edward squirm.
But no. New Daisy is balanced and mature. She’s not that girl anymore. She doesn’t cause scenes in venues filled with Britain’s most important medical professionals.
New Daisy can hold it together—have her night, go home solo, no tantrums, no theatrics.
Tomorrow, I’ll call him, casual as you like.Hey, what’d you get up to last night?
Allow him the chance to be honest. Or give him the rope to hang himself with.
I saw what I needed to see. Evidence collected. Case fucking closed until tomorrow.
I’ll handle it when I’m not a shaking mess.
“You okay?” Mike asks, swaying slightly beside me.
“Yeah.” I force a smile, smoothing down my dress like I didn’t just have a complete mental breakdown behind a pillar. “Just felt a bit dizzy for a second. Come on, let’s go.”
I suck in a deep breath, steel myself, and push through the crowd toward the exit. Mike stumbles after me, still oblivious, still chattering, but I don’t hear him. Almost there, almost free—
Except I make the mistake of looking up.
The screen flips to the next bio, and my stomach sinks even lower. There’s Lucia, glowing up there, her perfect portrait staring down at me while her accomplishments scroll underneath.
Of course she’s up there. Of course she’s brilliant, beautiful, the whole damn package.
She’s not just good enough to be seen with Edward in public—she’s the kind of woman theycelebratein public.
I grip my clutch so tight I might have squeezed mascara from the tube.
“Oh, fuckallthe way off,” I whisper brokenly.
Mike follows my stare, squints up at the screen, and snorts. “Looks like she’s got a permanent stick up her ass, if you ask me.” He glances my way. “What, you know her?”
In that moment I decide I love Mike. Well, not literally—but at least he distracts me from feeling distraught for a few precious seconds.
I try to laugh, but my throat’s so tight, the sound barely makes it out. “No, I don’t know her.” My eyes sting like hell, hot tears prickling at the edges of my vision. I blink them back furiously.
I turn to Mike. “You know what? Screw it—let’s hit that afterparty after all.”
