After a long while, two soft knocks came from outside the door.
A voice from outside called out, "Mr. Moore, Madam, the press is ready in the reception hall, and the speech will begin in ten minutes."
He stilled.
He took a deep breath, burying his face in the hollow of my shoulder for a full half minute.
"I really want to hide you away," he murmured.
Then, with a resigned air, he straightened up, meticulously smoothed out the hem of my gown, and bent down to check my high heels once more.
"Let's go, Mrs. Moore. Your domain awaits," he said.
When we re‑entered the banquet hall, countless camera flashes erupted.
Charles walked onstage, one hand protectively around my waist, the other securely cradling our sleeping baby.
The hall was filled with the city's business elite. Those few i
