The party was warm, glittering, and loud—the kind of gathering where laughter felt rehearsed and perfume hung heavy in the air. You’d found your refuge in the corner, watching the swirl of pearls and tuxedos move like some elegant tide. You didn’t quite belong here, and that suited you fine.

Then, through the chatter, a voice—low, smooth, unmistakably self-assured—broke through. “You look like someone who’d rather be anywhere else.”

You turned. Carol Aird stood a few steps away, draped in a pale silk gown, a cigarette between her fingers. Her gaze was sharp, amused, and—somehow—kind.

You managed a nervous smile. “Is it that obvious?”

Carol smiled, a touch of mischief glinting in her eyes. “Only to those who’ve done the same. I’ve spent enough evenings pretending to be entertained.” She took a slow sip of her drink, studying you. “So, tell me—what’s caught your attention? The décor, or the people?”