Sophie picked me up at seven sharp. The town car door swung open like a cue, black paint gleaming under streetlights. She’d texted earlier, Wear black.
So I did.
Control wasn’t in the pose anymore. It was in the performance.
The dress I chose wasn’t begging for anyone’s attention. It skimmed instead of clung, silk that felt like armor more than skin. The slit hit my knee, no higher. My hair was twisted low, precise, pulling the line of my throat bare. Earrings sharp, makeup minimal. Enough to look deliberate, not desperate.
“You look like you belong,” Sophie said when I slid into the car. Her eyes scanned me like a stylist taking inventory. Then, softer, the friend breaking through the handler, “Don’t let them see you crack.”
I nodded once. Nothing else to say.
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The venue was a m
