He nodded slowly and closed the door.

I turned and walked back toward the mezzanine.

The sound of a live orchestra drifted up from the ballroom below.

I stepped out onto the carpeted balcony and looked down at the crowd.

The ballroom was a sea of glittering diamonds, black tuxedos, and silk dresses.

At the center of the room, standing near a towering floral arrangement, was Julian.

He looked identical to Alexander, wearing a tailored tuxedo that fit him perfectly.

Senator Sterling stood beside him, laughing at something Julian had said.

Victoria was there too, her expression frozen in a polite, empty smile.

She looked like a prisoner in her own life.

I felt a cold knot tighten in my stomach.

I began to walk down the sweeping marble staircase toward the lobby.

Every step felt heavy.

As I reached the bottom step, a tall man in a dark suit stepped into my path.

It was one of Julian’s personal bodyguards.

“Mrs. Whitmore,” the man said, his voice flat. “This way, please.”

He didn’t wait for a response.

He turned and led me toward the private study off the main corridor.