The chandelier's glow scattered across the ballroom like falling stars, its golden light kissing the polished marble floors and the clinking glasses that floated through the room like delicate chimes. Lottie stood near the edge of the crowd, her slender fingers resting lightly on the stem of a champagne flute, the cool glass pressing against her skin. She watched as guests moved in shimmering waves, laughter rippling through the air, the low hum of conversation curling like smoke through the room.
Evelyn was at the center of it all. Draped in a pale blue gown that caught the light like spun sugar, she glided through the crowd with effortless grace, her smile a blade hidden beneath silk. Lottie's gaze tracked her sister, noting the subtle tilt of her chin, the way her fingers brushed the arms of admirers as if bestowing grace by touch alone. Every movement was calculated, polished—a performance honed to perfection.
"She's really working the room tonight," Leo's voice murmured in Lottie's ear, low and edged with dry amusement. His presence at her shoulder was a quiet anchor, the faint scent of cedar and spice threading through the air as he leaned in slightly. "Bet you five she makes three more rounds before dessert."
Lottie's lips twitched faintly, her eyes never leaving Evelyn. "Make it four," she murmured, the words slipping past her lips like a sigh. Her fingers tightened slightly on her glass, the cold biting into her skin. There was an ache low in her chest, old and familiar, stirred by the sight of her mother beaming beside Evelyn, her laughter a touch too bright, her eyes flicking past Lottie without pause. The curve of her mother's mouth as she laughed with the guests near Evelyn dug sharp under Lottie's ribs, a sting she wore like an old bruise.
She inhaled slowly, tasting the faint bitterness of champagne on her tongue, her spine stiffening as her father swept his gaze across the crowd. His nods were brief, clipped, eyes sharp and assessing, every movement a quiet reminder of the expectations draped heavy over the family name. His gaze barely brushed past Lottie, grazing her like a cold wind before settling elsewhere, already calculating the next profitable connection.
The clink of silverware against crystal drew Lottie's gaze as Evelyn lifted her glass, the hush that rippled through the room sharpening the air like a knife drawn slow from its sheath. "To family," Evelyn declared, her voice a perfect mix of warmth and charm, the corners of her mouth curved in a smile that didn't quite touch her eyes. "To tradition. And to making this year our most unforgettable yet."
Applause broke like a wave, laughter trailing in its wake. Lottie raised her glass, the soft chime of crystal on crystal brushing against her ears, her eyes hooded as she watched Evelyn soak in the glow of approval. Her fingers trembled faintly as she set the glass back down, the ache in her palm fading into the cool press of the stem. Across the room, Amy hovered near Evelyn's elbow, her expression bright and eager, laughter bubbling from her lips as she leaned in too close, eyes darting between Evelyn and the cluster of admirers pressing in. Her hand brushed Evelyn's arm, fingers curling possessively, a flicker of something sharp and hungry flashing across her face when she thought no one was watching.
Lottie's phone vibrated softly in her clutch. She slipped it open, lips curving faintly at the brief text glowing on the screen.
Leo: Good luck.
The corner of her mouth lifted, the tightness in her chest loosening by a fraction. She stole a glance over her shoulder; Leo stood by the dessert table now, a crooked grin tugging at his mouth as he lifted his glass in a silent toast. The air in the room pressed closer, a mix of perfume and polished veneer, the weight of a hundred eyes flicking between smiles and whispered judgment. Lottie moved smoothly, her gown whispering against the floor as she slipped away during the swirl of a photo session, the camera flashes flaring and fading like fireflies in a jar. Her heart beat a little faster, the hum of tension weaving into her blood as she circled the edge of the room, fingers brushing lightly against the cool stone of a pillar as she passed.
Evelyn's laugh floated through the air, sharp and sweet, threading through the polished harmony of the evening like a silver wire stretched to snapping. The sound pricked Lottie's skin, gooseflesh rising along her arms. She paused near the mirrored wall, her fingers brushing briefly against the cool metal edge of a hidden audio bug, slipping it into place with a flicker of practiced grace. The motion was fluid, hidden within the adjustment of her bracelet, her reflection flickering in the glass—a girl poised, polished, and waiting. The briefest flicker of her own eyes in the mirror caught her off guard: the tightness in her jaw, the flicker of something cold and cutting behind her gaze.
A flicker of old hurt stirred beneath her ribs as she watched Evelyn drape an arm around Amy, their laughter spilling too easily, too carelessly. Amy's head tilted back, throat exposed, eyes wide with something too bright, too desperate. For a heartbeat, Lottie's breath caught, a brief, sharp ache cutting through the armor she wore. But then resolve settled cold and certain along her spine, the quiet pulse of anticipation sharpening her focus. She exhaled slowly, letting the tension bleed from her shoulders as her fingers curled loosely at her side.
The air around her vibrated with a quiet edge, the hum of conversation punctuated by the pop of champagne corks, the muted shuffle of waiters slipping between guests. The scent of roasted meats, sugared almonds, and expensive perfume twisted together, a heady mix that hovered just beneath the glittering surface of the night. Lottie drew in a slow breath, her fingers grazing the rim of her glass as she let her gaze sweep the room. She caught her father's eyes for a fleeting second—cool, appraising—before they moved past her, already searching for the next useful connection. A familiar tightness banded her chest, the old, bitter ache of invisibility.
Evelyn raised her glass again, laughter bubbling at her lips as relatives circled close, their praise wrapping around her like a second skin. Lottie's lips curled faintly as she watched the delicate balance tilt, the faintest tremor at the edges of Evelyn's poise. A stray lock of hair fell against Evelyn's cheek; her fingers lifted too quickly to smooth it, a flicker of annoyance tightening her mouth before she caught herself and smiled again, bright and unshaken.
Leo caught her eye across the hall, a half-smile tugging at his mouth as he lifted his glass in a subtle salute. Lottie's breath stirred in a shallow exhale, the sound soft as silk in the press of noise around her. His presence steadied her, a quiet thread winding through the swirl of laughter and clinking glasses.
The hush of silk against skin, the brush of air stirred by passing guests, the faint sharpness of wine on the back of her tongue—every detail etched itself into Lottie's nerves, her awareness sharpened to a blade's edge. Beneath the polished surface, the air thrummed with tension, the gathering storm wrapped in lace and laughter. A waiter passed by, the faint rustle of the tray brushing her arm as she turned slightly, the momentary chill of the champagne flutes whispering past her skin.
Amy leaned in, her voice low, her hand brushing Evelyn's arm as she murmured something that drew a glittering laugh from Evelyn's throat. Lottie's gaze sharpened, her heart tapping a staccato beat against her ribs as she slipped through the crowd once more, the edge of her gown trailing like a shadow. She caught the faint brush of a fingertip along her wrist as Leo fell into step beside her, his voice pitched low.
"She's slipping," he murmured, the faintest note of triumph threaded through the words. "You see it?"
"I see it," Lottie breathed, the words cool and sharp on her tongue. Her eyes flicked once to Evelyn, who laughed too loudly, the sound a shade too brittle, the gleam in her eyes stretched too tight.
At the banquet's heart, Mother shone, her voice bright with affection, deflecting every compliment toward Evelyn with a practiced flick of charm. Father's gaze skimmed over Lottie once more, a flicker of acknowledgment before sliding away, leaving behind the faint chill of dismissal. Lottie felt the old ache rise, sharp and bitter at the back of her throat, but she swallowed it down, her fingers curling lightly at her side, the cool kiss of her ring biting faintly into her skin.
As a new toast rose, glasses lifted high, the soft ring of crystal threading through the air, Lottie's heart gave a single, hard beat. Her fingers brushed against the device in her pocket, her eyes glinting as she caught the faint, tremulous note threading through Evelyn's laughter—the first hairline crack in a mask too long worn. A flicker of breath caught between Evelyn's teeth, gone almost before it appeared, but Lottie saw it, marked it, tucked it away like a blade between her ribs.
Across the room, Leo shifted, his fingers tapping lightly against the edge of his glass, the rhythm sharp, deliberate—a silent signal threaded through the noise. Lottie's breath slipped past her lips in a slow exhale, the faintest smile ghosting at the corners of her mouth. The soft sweep of silk at her calves, the faintest chill where the air caught the bare skin at her shoulders, the tightening beat of her pulse—each sensation settled into place, sharp and real, grounding her as the room sparkled and spun.
The game was shifting, the trap coiled tight beneath the polished glow.
As the final notes of laughter echoed and Evelyn turned to beam at the crowd, Lottie's fingers brushed once more against the edge of her glass, her pulse steady, sharp, waiting. The air vibrated, the tension coiled tighter, the polished perfection trembling at its seams.
And beneath it all, Lottie smiled—quiet, sure, unshaken—as the first domino tilted into motion.