The Ghost in the Ballroom

The scent of lilies and floor wax in the Vance ballroom was a suffocating reminder of everything Elara had been scrubbed from. As a server, she was a ghost in her own family’s house, a silhouette in a black-and-white uniform designed to be invisible. She kept her head bowed, her fingers trembling slightly as she balanced a tray of champagne flutes.

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