Chapter 8
1108 Words
Sarah's POV
The crystal chandeliers in the Grand Ballroom of the Moretti Plaza Hotel dripped light like frozen diamonds, casting everything in a golden haze that felt both magical and oppressive.
The gala was in full swing, the annual Moretti Foundation Charity Auction, where old money mingled with new tech fortunes, politicians shook hands with CEOs, and every smile hid a calculation.
I stood at the edge of the crowd in a floor-length emerald gown the tailor had insisted on, the silk cool against my skin perfectly.
My hair was swept into an elegant updo, pearls at my throat, Eleanor’s choice, of course. “Something classic,” she’d said during the fittings.
Adrian’s hand rested lightly on the small of my back as we descended the sweeping staircase, a picture-perfect couple for the photographers lining the entrance. His tuxedo was impeccable, his jaw clean-shaven, but the touch felt scripted. “Smile, Sarah,” he murmured, lips barely moving. “This is important for the reporters.”
I forced the corners of my mouth upward, nodding at a passing couple whose names I couldn’t quite remember. The air smelled of expensive perfume, aged whiskey, and fresh-cut lilies arranged in towering vases. Laughter tinkled like glass, but underneath it all, I felt the familiar itch. Everything happening here is an act.
“Adrian! Sarah!” A booming voice cut through the crowd. Mr. Reginald Voss, a silver-haired real estate tycoon with a wife half his age clinging to his arm, approached with outstretched hands. “Lovely to see the next generation of Morettis out in force. Adrian, that proposal on the waterfront development was so brilliant. We should talk about expansions.”
Adrian’s posture shifted into full business mode, his hand pressing firmer against my back. “Reginald, good to see you. Sarah, you remember Evelyn.”
I exchanged pleasantries, my voice light and practiced. Evelyn Voss complimented my dress, her eyes flicking over me with the same assessing gaze Eleanor used. “You’re adjusting well to married life, I hear. Such a whirlwind romance. How romantic.”
“Very,” I replied, squeezing Adrian’s arm.
Eleanor materialized beside us like a shadow in her sleek black gown, pearls gleaming. “There you are, dears. Sarah, darling, you look almost poised tonight. Come, I’ll introduce you to the board wives. They’ve been asking about the new Mrs. Moretti.”
Adrian released me with a nod, already deep in conversation with Voss about quarterly projections. “Go on. I’ll find you after the auction bids.”
I followed Eleanor through the throng, my heels clicking on the marble floor. She leaned in, voice low and sweet for anyone listening. “Chin up. These women can smell uncertainty. And try not to mention that little family of yours.”
The next hour blurred into a series of handshakes and careful conversations. I met Mrs. Lydia Kensington, whose husband ran a pharmaceutical empire, and listened as she droned on about her latest wellness retreat in Switzerland. “You must join me next time, Sarah. It does wonders for the complexion, and the disposition. New brides often find the transition... taxing.”
“I’m managing,” I said, accepting a flute of champagne from a passing waiter. The bubbles tickled my nose, but the alcohol felt necessary.
Eleanor hovered. “Sarah’s been such a breath of fresh air,” she told the group, her smile never reaching her eyes. “Though we’re focusing her talents on the foundation now. Legacy work, you know.”
The women nodded approvingly. One of them, a sharp-eyed hedge fund manager named Carla Ruiz, tilted her head. “I saw your name in that old gallery program last year. Bold choices in contemporary pieces. Do you miss it?”
“A little,” I admitted, before Eleanor could steer away. “Art has a way of connecting people through their stories. Grief, reinvention... it’s powerful.”
Carla’s eyes lit with interest. “Fascinating. My company just funded an art therapy initiative for veterans. You should consult if you’re ever free from... all this.” She gestured vaguely at the opulence around us.
Eleanor’s laugh was a soft chime. “How generous. But Sarah’s plate is quite full supporting Adrian. Isn’t that right, dear?”
I took a longer sip of champagne, avoiding her question.
Adrian found us during the silent auction preview. He looked flushed with networking success, his tie perfectly straight. “Everything alright?” he asked, slipping an arm around my waist for the benefit of onlookers.
“Wonderful,” Eleanor answered for me. “Sarah’s been enchanting everyone. Though I did have to remind her about the foundation focus.”
He glanced at me, something like approval in his eyes, but it felt distant. “Good. The board loves seeing family unity. There’s talk of me taking point on the Asian markets expansion. This could be huge for us.”
I smiled, leaning into him. “That’s great, Adrian. Really.” But as he launched into details about boardroom strategies, my mind wandered again. The weight of his arm felt like the mansion walls, supportive on the surface, confining underneath. I excused myself to the ladies’ room, needing air.
The powder room was a marble sanctuary of soft lighting and fresh roses. I touched up my lipstick, staring at my reflection. The woman in the mirror looked polished, but her eyes carried a lot of pains her mouth can't say.
My phone buzzed.
Kael.
“How's the gala? Surviving?”
My thumb hovered. Typing felt dangerous, electric.
“Barely. Smiling on command.”
I hit send before I could delete it.
When I returned, Adrian walked up to me immediately.
“You seem quiet,” he said, voice low. His fingers adjusted my pearl necklace. “Mother mentioned you were a bit... distracted during fittings. Is everything okay after last night?”
I looked at him without saying anything.
He sighed, glancing toward the crowd where Eleanor chatted with a senator. “I know it’s been intense. Work is crushing right now. But this is for us, Sarah. The future. Mother’s just trying to help you settle in. She means well.”
“Does she?” The words slipped out sharper than intended. “She’s always making me feel uncomfortable. And you side with her every time.”
His jaw tightened. “Not now. This isn’t the place. We’ll discuss it later. Just... play the part tonight. For me.”
At 9pm sharp, the lights dimmed. The foundation director took the stage. “And now, a few words from our newest patron, Mrs. Sarah Moretti.”
- Writer
