Everyone stared.
For a heartbeat, the entire ballroom seemed to forget how to breathe.
Daisy walked forward, the diamond-strewn skirt of her gown whispering over the polished floor. Light followed her like it had chosen her on purpose.
“Is that really her?" someone murmured.
“She was the one who stormed the wedding, wasn't she?"
“She looks… different."
“Different? She looks like—"
“Shh. Rosalie's watching."
At that reminder, every half-formed compliment snapped shut.
Rosalie stood rigid among the guests, fingers sticky with spilled wine. Her smile was fixed in place, the muscles in her face trembling.
Amanda leaned toward a nearby lady and laughed a little too loudly. “Children," she said. “They dress up and can't resist showing off. Daisy has always liked attention."
A few peop
