Irene’s pov
If they wouldn’t give me power, I would take control in the only way I’d ever been taught—through appearance, grace, and calculated presence.
The moment I left Father’s lounge, I summoned my assistant. She arrived breathless, as always, scribbling something in that horrid little notepad of hers. I didn’t care what she had planned for me today—it was all irrelevant now. There was only one item on my schedule that mattered.
“I need a dress,” I said without breaking stride as I walked past her.
She blinked, almost tripping as she struggled to keep up. “Of course. For the dinner?”
I glanced at her out of the corner of my eye, mildly impressed. She was sharper than she looked. “Obviously. Something striking. Elegant. Enough to silence a room.”
She nodded frantically, already d
