The banquet hall had been cleared.
Only my family remained.
Father sat at the head of the long table. Mother held his hand. My brother stood behind me.
Everyone was looking at me.
Father spoke, his voice a little hoarse. “Ivy, what exactly have you been doing these past three months?”
I looked into his tired eyes, and suddenly, my heart ached a little.
He thought I’d been learning etiquette.
He thought I’d been trying to fit into this family.
“I never learned how to be a socialite,” I said. “And I never wanted to.”
Mother froze. “Then every day when you went out…”
“I went to the docks,” I cut in. “And the underground casinos. The warehouse district. The old flea markets in the East District.”
My brother frowned. “What were you doing in places like that?”
I smiled faintly. “Meet
