The woman stayed at the bar, swirling her drink with a casual elegance that made it clear she was used to drawing attention without trying. She didn’t look at Sofia directly, but her presence lingered like static in the air, close enough to touch, close enough to feel, yet far enough that no polite introductions would ever be exchanged. The resemblance gnawed at Sofia, an echo of the scandal that had once consumed her life. Same silhouette, same length of hair, same general frame. Close enough that the universe felt like it was taunting her, reminding her that her nightmare had started with nothing more than a blurry photo.
Tristan had crossed the room to join David, his back now turned to her. Without him standing nearby, the tension didn’t disappear. It simply reshaped itself, slipping
