Julian stopped, realizing what he had just said in front of three hundred witnesses.

He looked around the room, his eyes wild and scanning for an escape.

The two federal agents at the back began moving down the aisle toward the stage.

They were not alone; three more agents emerged from the side doors of the ballroom.

Senator Sterling reached into his pocket, his face pale and sweating under the stage lights.

Victoria did not move to help him; she simply watched him with a cold, detached expression.

I stood near the edge of the crowd, my heart racing as I looked at Alexander.

He looked down at me from the stage, and for a fraction of a second, he smiled.

It was the real smile, the one that reached his eyes.

But the tension in the room was still thick enough to cut.

Julian reached into his jacket pocket.

“Don’t move,” one of the federal agents shouted, drawing his weapon.

The crowd erupted into screams, people diving behind the round dinner tables.

Julian did not pull a gun; he pulled out a small, black remote device.