The soft swell of string music drifted through the banquet hall, delicate and sharp as the crystal chandeliers above. Lottie moved along the edges of the crowd, her gown whispering over the polished marble, fingers grazing the cool rim of her champagne flute. Her heart beat steadily in her chest, though each thud was laced with an electric thread of anticipation that tickled along her nerves. Every breath she took tasted faintly of expensive perfume and tension, the air rich with the mingled scents of roses, cologne, and a sharp, underlying tang of sweat masked beneath powder and silk.
The perfect moment came in the chaos of laughter and flashing cameras. As Evelyn threw her head back in a dazzling display of charm, guests leaning in for photos, Lottie slipped behind her, the faint scent of Evelyn's perfume curling in the air—honeysuckle and something sharper beneath, a chemical sharpness that left a sour taste at the back of Lottie's throat. With a flick of her wrist, precise as a practiced dancer, Lottie slipped the tiny audio bug beneath the cushioned chair. The cold brush of metal against fabric was masked by the raucous cheer that followed Evelyn's teasing toast. For a heartbeat, Lottie felt the cool weight of risk in her palm, her fingers brushing the chair's carved edge as she eased back, the smooth lacquer cold beneath her skin.
"Did you see the look on Aunt Miriam's face when I mentioned the charity auction?" Evelyn purred to a circle of friends, voice smooth as silk and laced with just enough false modesty to make them laugh on cue. "Honestly, I should let her handle the next event—give her something to do besides counting pearls."
A ripple of laughter followed, brittle and eager. Lottie's lips twitched faintly as she eased back into the crowd, a shadow among sequins and laughter. Her pulse surged in her ears, but outwardly she was all polished grace, pausing to exchange polite nods and airy comments with passing guests. The warmth of the champagne glass grounded her, the faint chill of condensation kissing her fingertips, anchoring her in the moment.
She caught snippets of conversation as she drifted past: "Oh, Evelyn, you're radiant tonight," and "She's just magic with people, isn't she?" A faint curl of something sharp twisted in Lottie's chest, the old ache of being invisible pressing like a thumb to her ribs. She brushed it aside with the practiced flick of a smile, her fingers tightening slightly on the glass.
Across the room, Leo leaned casually against a marble column, a smirk tugging at his mouth as his eyes flicked to hers. He lifted his glass in a lazy salute, the silent acknowledgment of the game unfolding between them. Lottie tilted her head the barest fraction, a flicker of a smirk curling at the corner of her lips before she raised her flute to her mouth, the rim cool against her skin, the faint tang of champagne sharp on her tongue.
Amy clung to Evelyn's side like ivy wrapping a marble statue, eyes bright with eager devotion. Her laugh was a touch too sharp, the fingers she pressed to Evelyn's arm trembling faintly when no one was looking. Lottie's gaze caught on them, her chest tightening briefly—whether from old grief or steeled determination, she wasn't sure anymore. Amy leaned in, whispering something, her eyes darting toward Lottie with a flash of something almost gleeful, the corners of her mouth twitching as if she were savoring a private joke.
Evelyn's laughter rang out again, this time a shade louder, a shade shriller. "Oh, darling, some people just don't know when to quit, do they?" The words floated on a cushion of honey, but the sharp edge underneath was unmistakable. The circle of admirers around her tittered, Amy included, her hand clutching Evelyn's forearm with nervous, desperate delight. Lottie saw the moment Amy's gaze flickered, unease shivering across her expression before she masked it with another too-bright laugh.
Lottie's fingers grazed her clutch. A cool, metallic reassurance pulsed against her palm as she slid her thumb across her phone screen, confirming the device was live. Her breath slipped past her lips in a slow, measured exhale. The soft vibration of the phone against her skin felt almost like a heartbeat, thrumming in sync with her own. She could feel the tension coil tighter in her shoulders, each breath lengthening as she fought the restless urge to move, to act. But timing was everything.
Father's silhouette cut through the crowd—tall, severe, eyes sweeping the room with the quiet authority of a man used to being obeyed. His gaze paused on Lottie, narrowing slightly. His nod was nearly imperceptible, but Lottie felt the weight of it settle on her shoulders, a reminder of the invisible tightrope she walked. She offered a serene, practiced smile in return, the kind that gave away nothing and everything all at once. The faint tightening of his jaw, the brief flicker of disapproval in his eyes, barely registered before his attention shifted away.
The music swelled, the clink of glasses rising in a soft crescendo. Mother drifted through the room, her voice lifted just enough to carry, lavishing praises on Evelyn's impeccable taste and boundless generosity. The words were polished to a gleam, as though they might shield the family from the smallest crack in the facade. Lottie's mouth curled at the edge, a private amusement twisting behind her calm, the bitter-sweet taste of it lingering on her tongue like burnt sugar.
Leo's voice brushed her ear as he drifted closer, his breath warm against her neck. "Ready to pull the pin?" His tone was laced with lazy humor, but beneath it Lottie caught the sharp, coiled tension.
"Not yet," she murmured back, eyes flicking toward Evelyn, who had turned to whisper something with venom-laced sweetness to a cluster of younger cousins. "Let her dance a little longer." Her gaze narrowed as she watched the way Evelyn's fingers trailed lightly over Amy's shoulder, the careless possessiveness in the touch, the way Amy's shoulders stiffened almost imperceptibly before sinking back into the glow of attention.
The anticipation built under Lottie's skin, electric and tight. She felt the quiet pulse of knowledge settle into her bones, a steadying weight against the whirlwind of charm and cruelty spinning through the room. Each movement, each word, each brittle laugh felt like a thread she was slowly, precisely weaving into a noose.
Evelyn's voice lifted over the hum of conversation, a lilting note of indulgent mockery slipping free when she thought no one important was listening. "Oh, honestly, Amy, bless your heart—you're just so… earnest." Her fingers brushed Amy's cheek, a careless, patronizing touch. "But don't worry. Stick with me and you'll learn to swim."
Lottie's fingers tightened on her glass for a heartbeat, the cold sting grounding her as her pulse leapt in her throat. She exhaled slowly, the faintest quiver of a smile brushing her lips as her thumb hovered over the phone.
Amy's eyes flicked toward Lottie again, wide and uncertain now, as if part of her sensed the precariousness of the pedestal Evelyn had offered. But the next second, Evelyn's arm swept around her shoulder, and Amy melted into the embrace with a nervous laugh, the sharp, glimmering edge of panic softening into something almost childlike.
Father passed near again, his eyes sharp as flint. For the briefest moment, his gaze locked with Lottie's, searching, measuring, weighing. She held it calmly, offering the same quiet, polished smile, even as her heartbeat hammered like a war drum behind her ribs.
A vibration pulsed against her palm.
Recording complete.
The words glowed on her screen, stark and final. Lottie's pulse gave a sharp jolt, a rush of cold clarity sweeping through her veins. Across the room, Leo caught her eye, his brows lifting in a silent question, the flicker of a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. His fingers toyed idly with the stem of his glass, but his eyes were bright, alert.
Lottie let the faintest breath slip from her lips, a half-smile blooming like the first crack of dawn. Her fingers ghosted over her phone, sealing away the moment, tucking it into the arsenal she carried hidden in plain sight. The air around her seemed to pulse, each heartbeat a quiet drumroll, the anticipation winding tighter, sharper.
Evelyn's laughter floated across the room again, that perfect, polished sound just beginning to fray at the edges. Lottie watched, steady as a blade waiting at the throat of a storm, the soft swell of music curling like smoke through the shimmering air. And in the hush between laughter and applause, in the quiet pulse of light on crystal and silk, the hush between notes felt stretched thin, a trembling pause trembling like breath caught in a throat, fragile yet thrumming with unspoken promise, the air thick with the scent of anticipation, the shimmer of silk and glass reflecting stories yet to break, a moment sharpened to a glittering edge. Lottie stood poised—waiting for the first stone to fall.