Elizabeth pov
After a while, the hum of the room returned, laughter spilling over glasses of champagne, men in expensive suits shaking hands, women whispering behind jeweled fans. But I could still feel it—eyes on me. Every time I walked past with a tray balanced in my hands, I felt their stares, their whispers, the weight of their silent judgment pressing down on me.
So I kept my head bowed, pretending the marble floor was the only thing worth looking at. Pretending their gazes didn’t burn holes into my skin. Pretending I wasn’t suffocating in humiliation.
“Tonight, we want to extend our gratitude to our most generous benefactor,” the host’s voice rang out through the speakers, pulling everyone’s attention to the stage. “Though he couldn’t join us in person, Christian Reed, our bigges
