Lira pov:
The night was everything it should have been. It was glamorous, sparkling, and perfectly staged. But for me, the night was far from perfect.
My heels clicked against the polished marble floor as I followed Damian through the crowd, our hands loosely linked for appearance. We had done this dance before. Smiling when spoken to, laughing at the right moments, eyes meeting like lovers. A well-practiced illusion. But tonight, I felt stripped bare beneath my dress. My father’s presence did that to me
I gripped Damian’s hand a little tighter, hoping he wouldn’t notice.
There stood my father and mother-Leonardo and Mireille Hart, alongside Damian’s parents. Charles Blackwood, ever composed and Seraphina Blackwood, regal as always, her eyes sharp behind her painted smile.
“Young peo
