The deflection worked. Sarah launched into a description of a conference happening next month, and I listened attentively, asking appropriate questions, never revealing anything of substance about myself.
After five minutes, she excused herself, and I allowed myself a small internal breath of relief.First test passed.
I continued circulating, introducing myself to a philanthropist from Manhattan, discussing Blackthorne Harbor's architecture with a diplomat from France, and listening politely to a tech CEO's thoughts on cryptocurrency regulation.
Each conversation was a careful dance. Showing interest without seeming ignorant, demonstrating knowledge without appearing to boast, and being memorable without being flashy.
I was just starting to feel like I’d finally hit my stride when I turned from the champagne table and nearly collided with a man in his sixties. He was distinguished-looking with silver hair and an expensive watch. He was oddly familiar, too, but not a Dionysus Club member. I’d learned from my training that older Club members wore rings like the one Cal had received as a gift from Roman last year, with a stylized minotaur design, and this man only wore a wedding band.
“Oh, excuse me,” I said quickly.
“Not at all. That was entirely my fault.” The man smiled, extending his hand. “Richard Armstrong. I don't believe we've met.”
“Violet Calloway.” I shook his hand, mind racing as I tried to figure out why he was familiar. Then it finally hit me. He owned Coastal First Bank, one of the largest regional banks in New England, and he’d done a guest lecture in my business strategy class in the third week of the semester. “I was at a lecture you did for Professor Grey a few months ago, and I really enjoyed it. You had so many fascinating insights.”
His brows rose. “Ah, you’re a BHU student?”
“Yes. I’m studying business and economics.”
“BHU is an excellent school. I let Ron drag me in at least twice a year for the guest lectures, and I always enjoy my time there,” he said, smiling broadly. The twinkle in his eye suddenly faded, and his voice dropped slightly. “Although… there was some terrible business there a few weeks ago. You must’ve heard all about it. A student was arrested for murder. Apparently she killed another girl last year. Pushed her right off a clock tower.”
My heart stopped. The champagne glass suddenly felt slippery in my hand, and I could feel my pulse in my throat, could hear Cal's voice in my memory, could see Cherry's face as she confessed.
But I couldn't react. Couldn't let any of that emotion show.
I took the smallest sip of champagne, buying myself two seconds to compose my face. “Yes, we all heard about that,” I said, my voice perfectly steady despite the screaming in my head. “It was a senseless tragedy. But everyone is glad the girl was caught in the end.”
“Indeed.” Richard shuddered slightly. “It must’ve been horribly jarring to realize that a murderer was in your midst for so long.”
I nodded slowly. “It was a difficult thing to process,” I replied, letting the slightest shadow cross my face. “But all we can do is keep our heads held high and try to focus on positive things, don’t you think?”
“Quite right.” Richard inclined his head. “Dwelling on darkness never helps, does it? Life’s simply too short.”
“Well, on that note, here’s some new year’s cheer for you,” I said, forcing my lips to curve into a small smile. “I heard the state legislature recently relaxed the luxury taxes on recreational vessels, and I remember you saying something in the lecture about being an avid sailor.” As I spoke, I shifted my posture slightly, angling toward him with renewed interest. “You were having a yacht custom-built, if I recall correctly? So this new tax law must’ve been a very pleasant surprise for you.”
The transition worked perfectly. Richard's face lit up, and he launched into an enthusiastic description of his new mega-yacht's specifications. I listened, asked appropriate questions, and kept the conversation away from BHU and Cal’s murder.
Outside, I was the perfect image of a charming young woman discussing luxury boats. Inside, I was screaming.
After ten minutes, Richard excused himself to speak with Senator Maher, and I finally allowed myself to breathe.
My hands were steady. My smile hadn't wavered. No one watching would've known that conversation nearly destroyed me.
I'd done it.
I found an empty corner near one of the floor-to-ceiling windows and took a moment to collect myself, looking out at the dark grounds while I regulated my breathing.
“Quite a crowd tonight.”
I turned to find another Selection girl beside me. Madeline Birch, a BHU senior who was studying political science and sociology. She looked stunning in a deep burgundy gown.
“It is,” I replied. We weren't supposed to discuss the trial with each other, in case any non-Dionysus-affiliated guests overheard, but regular conversation was permitted. “How are you doing?”
“I think I’ve done pretty well so far.” She paused to sip her champagne. “How about you?”
“I’m hanging in there,” I said with a small smile. “Your dress is perfect, by the way. You look amazing.”
“Thanks! Yours is beautiful too. It really brings out your—”
