We drove to the venue in silence, his hand on my thigh the whole way.
The gala was at the Hibernian Hall—grand columns, crystal chandeliers, the kind of place that whispered money. Guests milled in black tie and gowns, glasses clinking, laughter floating.
Eleanor spotted me first, pulled me aside.
“The statement,” she said. “We need it now.”
I nodded. “I’ll speak.”
Her eyes flicked to Cassian behind me. “Alone?”
“No.”
She exhaled. “Lia?—”
But I was already walking toward the stage.
The emcee introduced me. Applause rippled.
I stepped to the podium, lights hot on my face.
The room quieted.
I looked out—faces I knew, donors, colleagues, Harper and Luca in the back, my mother somewhere in the crowd? No, she was with Daniel. But the thought of her lingered.
I took a breath.
“I started this work because I believed in choices,” I said. “In rejecting violence. In building something better.”
Murmurs.
“But life isn’t always clean lines. Sometimes it’s contradiction. Sometimes it’s falling for the very thing you fight.”
Gasps.
“I met Cassian Locke through a … matchmaking service. I asked for danger. He gave it. And more.”
Eyes widened.
“His work clashes with mine. I know that. But he’s not the enemy. He’s the man who showed me that wanting isn’t weakness.”
I looked at him, standing at the edge of the crowd.
“And I choose him. Even if it costs.”
The room erupted—whispers, claps, a few boos.
Protesters outside chanted faintly through the doors.
I stepped down, legs shaking.
Cassian met me halfway, pulled me into his arms.
“You didn’t run,” he murmured.
“No.”
The fallout came fast—phones buzzing, Eleanor’s face pale, donors approaching with questions.
