The city had a way of dressing itself for evenings like this—sharp, glittering, unapologetically alive. From her window, Gigi watched the last streaks of sunset blur into the neon glow of Manhattan, the streets below already buzzing with Friday-night electricity. For a moment, she wondered if the people rushing along the sidewalks were as restless as she felt, if they too carried a storm under carefully chosen clothes.
She turned back to the mirror. The emerald-green dress hugged her figure like it had been waiting for this night, the silk pooling in soft ripples at her ankles. She twisted slightly, assessing the drape of the neckline, and let out a slow exhalation. Elegant without being ostentatious. That was the balance she had been aiming for.
“Turn again,” Isabella commanded from her
