The chandeliers glittered like frozen stars above us, their light spilling across the halls in a golden haze. Waiters in crisp uniforms glided between clusters of guests with champagne flutes balanced on silver trays, laughter bubbling as deals were whispered behind polished smiles.
On my arm, Liam was flawless.
His tuxedo fit like it had been crafted by the gods themselves, his posture confident but never showy, his expression a mask of cool detachment that only made people lean closer. He walked like a man who owned the room, and in a way, he did.
And me? I was the accessory. The beautiful wife. The one with the perfect dress and the perfect smile. I hated how practiced it felt, the way we moved like we’d rehearsed this dance a thousand times.
“Smile,” Liam murmured near my ear as we
