Later, the gathering loosened slightly.
Alcohol softened edges. Laughter returned in places. Conversations grew louder, less precise. But beneath it all, the structure remained intact.
Elize noticed that too.
Nothing here ever truly relaxed.
It only shifted form.
She stepped away briefly.
Not far.
Just enough to create space.
A small corridor between clusters of people led toward a quieter section near the side of the hall. She paused there, allowing herself a moment of distance.
A mistake—or a test.
She was still deciding which it was when someone stepped into her path.
A man.
Confident posture. Relaxed shoulders. The kind of ease that was carefully constructed rather than natural.
“Elize Moore,” he said, as if confirming a fact.
“Yes,” she replied.
“I’ve heard about you.”
