The ballroom is a sea of opulence, with the crystal chandeliers casting prisms across guests dressed in black suit, champagne flowing from towers of flutes, and five hundred of Paris's elite mingling as if the world outside doesn't exist.
Julian is on the mezzanine, delivering his polished speech about legacy, family, and the Voss name enduring for generations, his voice smooth and commanding, laced with the confidence. His speech is closed with thunderous applause from the guests.
Eleanor stands below him in her floor length emerald silk gown, the fabric hugging her curves like a second skin, her smile fixed for the cameras that have snapped her a hundred times tonight.
But inside, she is a storm. After the fight in the car, Jullian started another when he saw her smiling with the Jap
