I forced a smile, but it felt wrong on my face. “There’s a lot of that going around.” I spun on my heels trying to get away from her, the pressure too much to handle.
“Don’t.” Her voice cracked, her hand landed on my chest blocking my exit. “Don’t do this.”
“What?” I snapped, glancing around. I felt everyone was paying too much attention to us even though no one was looking our way.
“Try to fake it.” I huffed and shook my head in disbelief. “You are; you’re trying to push me away. You do that when you’re scared.”
“I’m not scared,” I said.
“You’re terrified.” When I didn’t answer, she stepped closer. “Sin… don’t let him take this from you too.”
I opened my mouth to lie—again—but something stopped me. The truth pressed against the back of my throat like a scream.
“I saw him last night. On the back terrace. He was drinking, alone. And for a second, I thought—” My voice wavered. “I thought he was gonna say something. Like the weight of it all was finally too much.” Thalia didn’t say anything. She justwaited. “I thought he was going to walk down those stairs, look me in the eye, and choose me,” I whispered.
She nodded once. “And he didn’t.”
“No.”
The tray in my hands trembled slightly. Her lingering touch grounded me. “Then let that be your answer.”
I swallowed hard. “I-I think I… love him.”
“I know,” she sighed.
“I hate him for it.”
“I know that too.”
The marquee was a glittering cathedral of wealth and false promises, draped in cream silk and strung with a thousand low-hanging Edison bulbs that glowed like dying stars. The chandeliers above flickered with gold light, refracting off crystal wine glasses and the sharp edges of diamonds draped across collarbones like shackles. Waiters drifted between clusters of power-dressed guests, their trays loaded with champagne flutes and tiny hors d’oeuvres that looked too perfect to eat. Laughter rippled like a warning—thin, polished, and merciless.
The space was starting to fill with bodies. Politicians in sharp tailoring, tech investors with teeth too white to be real, old-money heirs who moved through the crowd with wolfish confidence. Everyone here wore masks, even if they weren’t visible. Some glittered with charm. Others with cruelty.
At the head of it all, standing beneath a spotlight on the raised stage like a relic on display, was Washington Astor and next to him, his ever-present shadow—Theo.
He was all sleek lines, black suit tailored within an inch of his soul, and dead silence radiating from him like a warning. He looked like he’d been carved from marble, a mausoleum statue pretending to breathe. A ghost with a god complex. The kind of man who could make entire rooms obey without raising his voice.
He didn’t notice me, but I could see the muscles ticking in his jaw. His knuckles bled white with tension.
A hush fell as they stepped up to the microphone. Washington’s voice slid through the tent like a razor wrapped in velvet.
“Good evening,” he said, his gaze sweeping across the marquee. “Welcome to the Brookhaven Ridge End-of-Summer Charity Gala. This year, our support goes towards the Rosemont Institute—an organization dedicated to rehabilitating the city’s most vulnerable youth. Children discarded by the system. Forgotten by society. Left behind by the rest of us.”
His words were honeyed. His mouth curled like he actually cared. But I knew better. I’d seen what lay beneath the mask. This wasn’t generosity. It was power laundering. Reputation management.
I took a slow step back into the shadows.
“After this,” I whispered to Thalia, my voice a wire stretched too tight, “I’m leaving.”
Her breath caught—just enough for me to notice. “I believe you,” she said. And this time, I knew she meant it. There was something fractured in her voice. Something quietly breaking alongside me.
I gave her a sharp, short nod. I didn’t trust myself to say anything more. The cracks inside me were spreading. My hands were fists at my sides. My throat was full of ash.
Before I could fall apart, I turned away. Behind me, Theo started speaking. He talked of legacies. Of building a better world. Of service and sacrifice. All the right words in the wrong man’s mouth.
Thalia’s hand brushed mine—quick, featherlight. A reminder that I wasn’t completely alone. “Hey,” she murmured. I turned just enough to see the shine in her eyes. “When you leave… Don’t forget me.”
I blinked, stunned for a second. Because Thalia never asked for anything. Not like that. “I couldn’t if I tried.” She gave me a smile. Small, broken at the edges. “You were the first person who ever saw me for more than what I could give.”
