The invitation arrived in gold-embossed script: Montierre International Gala, tonight, keynote speaker.
I held the envelope longer than I should have.
Not excitement. Not fear. A quiet calculation. This was a test.
Adrian leaned against the apartment doorway, observing me as I examined the invitation.
“You’ve never addressed an international audience before,” he noted softly.
“I’ve never faced subtle manipulation from people who think social standing trumps intelligence,” I replied.
His eyebrows lifted slightly. “And you will?”
“I will.”
He nodded once, satisfied, and allowed me the space to prepare.
Hours later, the gala venue stretched before me. A historic ballroom with marble floors and crystal chandeliers, the kind of place where whispers and glances carried more weight than
