The ballroom dripped with old money and older secrets.
I stood at the entrance of the Metropolitan Club, my hand resting lightly on Lorenzo's arm—the perfect picture of a devoted new bride. The weight of my mother's diamond necklace felt heavier than usual tonight, pressing against my collarbone like a reminder of everything I'd lost. Everything I was here to reclaim.
"Smile," Lorenzo murmured, his lips barely moving. To anyone watching, he appeared to be whispering sweet nothings. "You look like you're attending a funeral."
"I am," I replied, matching his tone. My smile widened, all teeth. "Theirs."
His fingers tightened almost imperceptibly on my waist. A warning or acknowledgment, I couldn't tell. With Lorenzo, the lines were always blurred.
We descended the stairs together, and I
