SANDRA'S POV
I know exactly how prisoners feel.
The thought arrives the moment I step into the ballroom and immediately makes me feel guilty because nobody dragged me here, nobody locked any doors, and nobody forced me into the expensive dress hanging perfectly against my body, yet as congratulations begin following me from every direction, I can't shake the feeling that I'm attending an event built around somebody else's life.
Not mine.
The ballroom glows beneath crystal chandeliers while waiters move through the crowd carrying champagne and photographers capture every smile they can find, and judging by the expressions around me, tonight is supposed to be beautiful.
Austin certainly thinks so.
His hand settles against my lower back before we've even crossed the room, and the smile
