Every time I saw that doll-perfect face, saw her hand tucked into Kirill's arm, saw the way he looked at her like she might shatter—I couldn't breathe.
I didn't want to fall apart in front of her. I didn't want to be that pathetic woman who lost it out of jealousy.
So I stayed quiet.
I could hear the murmurs around us. The air thickened.
"Harper?" Kirill's brow furrowed. Impatience crept into his tone. "If you two are going to talk, go upstairs."
It wasn't a suggestion. It was an order.
I opened my mouth to protest, but then I saw Olga nod at me. She turned to Kirill.
"Kirill," she said quietly, her voice carrying weight, "come with me."
Kirill glanced at his grandmother. His jaw tightened.
"Go on," he said to Genevie. "Take Harper upstairs. Talk it out."
Then he turned and followed Olga into the crowd.
I stood there, watching him disappear. Hollow.
He didn't even look at me.
"Harper, let's go."
Genevie's voice was soft, intimate. She looped her arm through mine like we were old friends and started leading me toward the stairs.
Her hand was cold. Her body felt frail. But her grip was iron. I couldn't shake her off. Was she really as weak as she pretended to be in front of Kirill?
We walked through the crowded ballroom and climbed the sweeping red-carpeted staircase. The chandeliers dimmed. The noise faded.
By the time we reached the second-floor hallway, it was empty.
Genevie stopped.
Her fingers dug into my arm. Nails biting through fabric. I gasped, tried to pull away.
"What are you doing?" I yanked my arm free and stepped back.
Red welts marked my skin where her nails had been.
Genevie stood there, her expression completely changed. The sweet, innocent smile was gone. In its place was something cold. Contemptuous.
"Does it hurt?" she asked lightly, her mouth curling into a smirk.
I stared at her, stunned. This wasn't the same woman.
"I really didn't expect this," she said slowly, her gaze dragging over me from head to toe. Disgust plain in her eyes. "I didn't think Kirill would ever settle for someone like you."
She stepped closer. Her voice dropped.
"Have you looked in a mirror? You look like a pig. Look at that waist. I bet Olga had to wrestle you into that dress."
Her words cut deep. Sharp. Deliberate.
I opened my mouth to fight back, but nothing came out.
