The gala settled into its late-evening rhythm, the kind of hush that follows initial introductions. The orchestra played a softer movement now, violins sweeping gently through the air like silk drifting across marble. Olivia stood beside Simon, her posture careful, her hands lightly brushed against the fabric of her gown. She felt the attention directed at him long before she understood it. Glances followed him wherever he walked. Voices softened when he neared. Women straightened their shoulders, lifted their chins, allowed their smiles to bloom a little too beautifully.
Simon acted as if none of it existed.
He greeted each woman with the same quiet regard, never lingering, never indulging, never offering warmth. Yet it did not change the truth. In the world of power and legacy, Simon J
