At the same moment, the large double doors at the side of the ballroom swung open.

Two security men in dark suits stepped through the entrance, their eyes scanning the ballroom.

I lowered my head, adjusting my grip on the silver champagne tray.

The brass edge of the tray cut into my palms through my thin cotton gloves.

Rowan did not look at the guards.

His focus remained entirely on Tessa, his fingers still locked around her wrist.

“Let go of me, Rowan,” Tessa said, her voice dropping to a low, cold whisper.

Rowan slowly released his grip, his hand dropping to his side.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, his thumb sliding across the screen to silence the vibration.

I caught a glimpse of the display before he darkened it.

The screen showed a single encrypted text line from Marcus.

“Your father is a monster,” Rowan said.

“My father is a survivor,” Tessa corrected, smoothing the lace sleeve of her gown.

She did not look angry; she looked entirely satisfied.

“The laboratory in the sub-level has been working on this for months,” she said.