Elena spent Thursday night in her suite, unable to sleep.
The gala was tomorrow. The performance was tomorrow. She'd been measured and fitted and coached and prepared for a role she didn't know how to play.
Victoria had given her scripts for common questions. Margaret had provided a detailed timeline of every moment. Alexander had told her to wear something that made her feel powerful.
But Elena didn't know what that looked like anymore.
She got out of bed at two AM and found herself walking through the penthouse again.
The hallways were dark except for the ambient light from Manhattan below. She moved like a ghost, barefoot on expensive marble, past paintings that probably belonged in museums.
She ended up in Alexander's art collection room again.
The fractured mirror was still t
