The party dragged on, the air thick with tension and the faint hum of conversations that Annabelle couldn’t quite tune into. She stood close to Derek, her hand resting lightly on his arm, her eyes scanning the room. The guests seemed to move in clusters, their laughter sharp and their glances sharper. No one approached them. No one even acknowledged them, except for the occasional cold stare from Grandfather Morano or the sly smirk from Smith.
Annabelle leaned closer to Derek, her voice low. “Why does it feel like we’re invisible here?”
Derek’s expression didn’t change, but his hand found hers, squeezing gently. “They’re not used to seeing me,” he said simply. “And they don’t know what to make of you.”
She frowned, her gaze flicking to a group of women nearby who were whispering behind
