The ballroom was unbearable, just as it had been every year. Polished marble floors, gaudy chandeliers, and laughter that never reached anyone’s eyes. The smell of champagne mingled with the sickly sweetness of expensive perfume. These events always made you feel like you were suffocating.

But then, there was Addison.

She stood near the bar, dressed in a wine-red gown that made her stand out in a room full of people desperate to be seen. Her hair was swept into an elegant twist, a glass of champagne in one hand, exuding effortless elegance. Addison had always been like that. Perfect, poised, untouchable. But she was also the only reason you survived nights like these.

“Stop lurking,” her voice called, lilting with amusement. She turned, blue eyes glinting with that knowing look she’d perfected.

“I wasn’t lurking,” you retorted, though the warmth in your face said otherwise.

“You were.” She smirked. “What is it this time? Another Ivy League trust fund baby? Or maybe politics?”

You groaned, grabbing her glass and taking a sip. She let you.

“Politics. Because apparently, being a queer disappointment wasn’t enough.”

Addison snorted softly. “Sounds like Bizzy’s been talking to him.”

“Don’t remind me.” Your eyes flitted to Bizzy Forbes Montgomery, glass in hand, lips pursed in disapproval. The Captain wasn’t far, nodding stiffly in a conversation with someone likely sharing his disdain for anyone who didn’t fit into his world.

Your own parents weren’t as loudly hateful, but their discomfort with anything outside their conservative ideals was painfully clear.

Addison had been your lifeline. Thirteen years older and practically a second sister, but she never treated you like an annoyance. She’d sneak you an extra glass of champagne or whisper sarcastic commentary just to make you laugh.

She was the only reason you’d survived growing up in this world.