The Price of a Public Vow

The chandeliers of the Vance estate didn't just illuminate the ballroom; they acted as a high-intensity interrogation lamp. Elara adjusted the silk strap of her gown—a Vivienne original that felt more like a tourniquet than couture—and forced a practiced, vacant smile. Every camera flash was a rhythmic reminder that the woman in the mirror was a fraud.

“You seem remarkably steady for a girl whose family fortune is currently evaporating, Vivienne.”

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