“He is still in the ballroom,” Daniel said, glancing toward the double doors. “But he will be looking for you. You should go to Mia.”

I thanked Daniel and walked down the carpeted hallway toward the private administrative offices.

The air smelled of beeswax polish and old paper.

Outside, the faint sound of sirens drifted up from Fifth Avenue.

I pushed open the heavy oak door to Daniel’s office.

Mia was sitting on a green velvet sofa, her knees pulled up to her chest.

She had taken off her silver high heels, which sat neatly on the Persian rug.

“Mom,” she said, her voice cracking.

I closed the door behind me and crossed the room to sit beside her.

I wrapped my arm around her shoulders, feeling her body trembling slightly under her silk dress.

“Is it over?” she asked, looking up at me with wide, dark eyes.

“It is just beginning, sweetheart,” I said gently.

“Everyone was staring,” she whispered, staring at her hands. “I saw the way he looked at Samantha. I saw the way they both looked at you.”