It wasn’t just a ball, but a display of power in gold and velvet. It was McGregor’s twisted circus disguised as charity and old-money elegance.
Everyone who mattered in Grosthe City was there—at least the ones he liked: governors, retired Military Generals, oil moguls, tech tycoons with god-complexes, and finally, the exemplary wives clad in diamonds and ornaments heavy enough to break necks. Alas, lost in the very heart of this carnival was me.
I tried not to look for any particular person, especially the mystery woman, Kim, even though I doubted she was the type to be at parties like this.
Standing like a solid statue close to the bar, I nodded politely at the condolences whispered to me by passersby, smiling so much my cheeks started to twitch.
“Kent was a good lad.” They would say.
