Elena arrived at the Salvatore mansion as quickly as she could. The anniversary party was already in full swing: crystal chandeliers winked above the garden, champagne flutes chimed, and elegantly dressed socialites drifted through clusters of conversation. In stark contrast, Elena—having rushed from home—stood out in a simple gray outfit, feeling small and painfully out of place.
She kept her head down and pushed through the crowd, planning to find Damien first. Then a woman spun around and collided with her; red wine sloshed from the woman’s glass and spread across the silk bodice.
"My dress!" the woman shrieked, glaring at Elena. "Watch where you’re going! Are you blind? How could the Salvatores have such a careless servant?"
The accusation snapped like a whip through the gathered gu
