If the gala were a chessboard, Ava had just realized she was never a pawn.
She was the piece everyone was waiting to move.
The rest of the night feels like walking a tightrope over knives.
She leads the mayor through the exhibit of glossy renderings and miniature models, reciting rehearsed lines about sustainable materials and community integration. Her mouth moves; she hears the words. Her brain, however, is still in that tight circle near the entrance.
*Ms. Moretti. It's a pleasure to finally meet you.*
Behind her, Riley hums occasionally in agreement like a backup singer, eyes scanning the crowd with the predator awareness of someone raised on bad neighborhoods and worse boyfriends.
“—and with this project, we’re hoping to integrate more public green space,” Ava finishes, gesturin
