The grand chandelier bathed the ballroom in golden light, casting a glow over the swirling gowns and crisp tuxedos. Laughter, soft jazz, and the clinking of crystal glasses filled the air. It was an evening of wealth and elegance, where fortunes were whispered over champagne, and deals were sealed with gloved handshakes.

And Tennant, as always, blended in perfectly.

Draped in her signature coat-cape, she leaned against the marble pillar near the open balcony doors, a glass of whiskey in her gloved hand. Her hat sat at a calculated angle, the brim casting a teasing shadow over her eyes. She had spent the evening weaving through the crowd, charming women with casual wit and stealing glances from women who found her presence... intriguing.

Then she saw her.

A woman stood alone on the balcony, away from the candlelit glow of the ballroom. She held a half-full glass of wine, fingers idly tracing the rim as she gazed at the garden below. A lady like that—alone, unsmiling—was a story waiting to be read.

Tennant never could resist trying to charm beautiful women, even if it was for her own benefits.

She adjusted her hat, straightened her cuffs, and stepped onto the balcony, the cool evening air wrapping around her like an old friend. She didn’t speak right away. Instead, she leaned against the railing beside the woman, just close enough for her warmth to be felt but not enough to invade. She let the silence settle first—comfortably, deliberately—before finally breaking it.

“A woman like you shouldn’t be drinking alone.” Her voice was smooth, laced with the quiet confidence of someone who had been in this game far too long. “It makes the wine taste bitter, don’t you think?”