As we entered, a wall of camera flashes blinded me for a second.

I blinked, keeping my chin up, just as Damon had taught me years ago.

“Smile, Nora,” he murmured near my ear.

I forced my lips to curve upward.

A waiter offered us champagne, and Damon took a glass, handing it to me.

“Damon, darling,” a sharp, familiar voice called out.

Dr. Elaine Brooks walked toward us through the crowd, wearing a dark green velvet dress.

Her eyes immediately went to Leo, then to me, a tight, knowing smile on her lips.

“It is a miracle to see you back, Nora,” Elaine said, her voice dripping with artificial warmth.

“Thank you, Elaine,” I said, my grip tightening on my glass.

“And little Leo,” she said, leaning down toward my son. “He looks so much like his father. I remember reading his early charts. Such strong genetics.”

“We are enjoying the evening, Elaine,” Damon said, his tone warning her to back off.

“Of course,” Elaine said, straightening up. “I only meant that the past has a way of catching up to us. It’s good that we are all in one room again.”