“There she is. Our Caelus closer.” His hand brushed the air in my direction, presenting me as an exhibit.
One of the men lifted his glass. “So this is the one who bullied those shipping lanes into submission.”
“The numbers made sense. We just pointed at them until everyone else agreed.” I smiled, making eye contact.
“She’s being modest.” My father’s hand settled lightly on my shoulder. “She carried that negotiation. Twice the detail work of the last team, not a single late clause submission, and the board barely needed clarification.”
“Impressive,” the older executive said. “You ever get tired of the Thorne dynasty, let me know. We’ll happily steal you. We like women who don’t fold.”
“Women who don’t fold are rare,” the other added with a chuckle. “We try to collect them early.”
My smile held. Just open enough to satisfy polite interest without offering anything else.
“She handled the review like she’d been doing it for twenty years,” My father’s hand left my shoulder. They drifted away a few moments later, already turned toward the next cluster of donors.
I pivoted toward a column and let myself exhale once.
The ache had crept higher, into my lower back now, radiating forward. Ballroom entrance still ahead. The partner rotation still waiting to haunt me.
“There you are.”
My mother glided toward me in emerald that matched the event branding more than it matched her eyes, hair pinned without a single strand out of place. Her gaze swept over me in one pass—neckline, waist, hem, posture.
“That dress reads heavy on camera.”
“It’s regulation length,”
“It’s not the length.” Her eyes lingered on the bodice. “It’s the cut. We spoke about this. That neckline shortens yourframe. You’re already high-waisted; you don’t need help looking compact in photos.”
“I didn’t design the gown. It was approved for?—”
“You signed off on it,” she cut in, not bothering to lift her tone. “Approval is endorsement.”
My jaw tightened. I nodded once.
Her attention dropped to my midsection and stayed there. “And you ate?”
“No.”
Her eyes snapped up. “Don’t lie to me.”
“I didn’t. I moved food around the plate. Like you taught me.”
A small hum left her, unconvinced. “You’ve put on weight,” her eyes were going up and down me, so slowly with deep disappointment.
The light overhead sharpened. “Have I?”
“Just a few pounds. It’s not dramatic,yet,but that’s how it starts. I’d correct it before the next auction circuit. Once eyes start registering ‘soft,’ they rarely go back.”
“I’m not?—”
“Madeline.” She sighed before lifting her glass, and sweeping a look around the gala. “I am trying to keep you competitive. This is what protects your options. I’m not criticising for sport.”
“I know.”
“Girls thicken around the middle, and suddenly their names drop on the merger lists. Value shifts fast. You’re too smart to let it start now.”
The dress didn’t feel any tighter than usual. The seam at my ribs sat where it always did. My stomach rolled around the painkillers and the half protein bar Vince had insisted I eat before I left.
