The ballroom glittered with wealth. Crystal chandeliers spilled light across polished marble, and the hum of conversation threaded between the clink of glasses and the muted notes of a string quartet. This wasn’t just another networking event—it was a battlefield dressed in tuxedos and gowns. Every smile was a weapon. Every laugh was a calculated strike.
I had been to enough of these nights by now to recognize the rhythm. Kieth Williams walked into a room and the center of gravity shifted. People gravitated toward him, like moths to a flame, knowing they might get burned but unable to resist. I stayed a half-step behind him, close enough to be seen, not so close that it looked deliberate.
My dress had been chosen carefully: sleek, understated, the kind of elegance that whispered rather t
