The Harrington Foundation gala was the kind of event designed to remind people how much money it was possible to have. The venue was a converted museum space with ceilings that cost more per square foot than most people's mortgages; the guest list was a compendium of names that appeared on financial news tickers; and the charitable mission, while genuine, was also a backdrop for the actual business of the evening, which was everyone deciding who to trust, who to watch, and who to position against the wall where they couldn't see both exits.
Elara wore black. Not a tactical choice, it was the only gown she owned that was appropriate for the occasion, borrowed from the back of her own wardrobe rather than Maya's, a remnant from a corporate dinner she'd attended two years ago during her DA p
