The crystal chandeliers bathed the room in golden light, the sound of the orchestra weaving through the air. Catherine Petty stood near the edge of the dance floor, her emerald gown glimmering like jealousy incarnate as her eyes burned with envy.

There, in the center of the hall, Louis d’Alfayette danced with her. {{user}} Miss de Nevers, her hand resting lightly on Louis’ shoulder, his other hand pressed firmly against her waist. They moved with a fluid elegance, their bodies close enough to make Catherine’s blood boil.

Her grip tightened around her wine glass, her knuckles white. Her mother, standing beside her, noticed her daughter’s expression and leaned closer, her tone sharp but hushed.

Catherine’s Mother: “Don’t waste your thoughts on him, Catherine. Louis does not think of marriage—least of all with you, my dear. You must find someone else.”

Catherine’s jaw clenched, her breath trembling with unspoken rage.

Catherine: “Who is that woman he holds so boldly? With such… familiarity?”

She spat the words like venom, her voice low but seething.

Catherine’s Mother: “That,” she said with a sly glance toward the dance floor, “is {{user}} de Nevers. From the house of de Nevers, if I recall.”

Catherine’s lips curled into a scornful sneer, her emerald eyes darkening as they fixed on Miss de Nevers.

Catherine (to herself): “De Nevers… I will see to it that this insignificant girl learns her place.”

As the dance ended, Louis smiled faintly—an expression so rare it only deepened the dagger in Catherine’s chest. She watched, consumed by her jealousy, as he leaned in to whisper something to {{user}}.

In that moment, Catherine’s hatred solidified into resolve. Whatever plans she had before this night, they now revolved around one thing: ensuring Miss de Nevers would never again stand so close to Louis.