The air in the banquet hall was thick with perfume and polished charm, laughter rising in soft waves that kissed the crystal chandeliers. Lottie slipped along the edge of the crowd, the hem of her gown whispering across marble as her fingers grazed the rim of her champagne glass. Her breath was steady, but beneath the calm, her pulse drummed quicksilver against her ribs, each thud matched by a tightening coil in her chest. The scent of waxed floors, fresh flowers, and spiced wine wrapped around her like a gilded net.
Relatives clustered around Evelyn, their faces flushed with wine and admiration. "You've outdone yourself, Evelyn," Aunt Miriam cooed, her manicured hand patting Evelyn's arm as though bestowing some matronly blessing. "Such poise, such grace—your mother must be so proud."
Evelyn's smile was blinding, practiced, each tilt of her head calculated to catch the light just so. "You're too kind," she murmured, a soft, rippling laugh sliding from her throat. But the gleam in her eyes was unmistakable—a spark of satisfaction sharp as glass. Her fingers brushed Amy's arm in a featherlight caress, nails grazing the silk of Amy's sleeve in a gesture of casual possession. Amy clung to her side, eyes wide with adoration, laughter bubbling up in nervous bursts that sounded a touch too high, too brittle.
From her quiet post, Lottie watched, her lips curling in the faintest of smiles. The cool weight of the phone in her clutch pressed against her palm like a secret heartbeat, the recording ready, coiled, waiting. Her thumb brushed over the edge of the device, the faintest tremor passing through her fingers before she smoothed it away, face composed as still water.
"Be ready," Leo murmured as he passed behind her, his voice a velvet brush along her ear. His hand grazed her elbow in a fleeting touch, barely there but enough to ground her, a flicker of warmth against the cool silk of her sleeve. Lottie inclined her head by the smallest fraction, her gaze flicking to meet his. His eyes crinkled faintly at the corners, the barest twitch of amusement pulling at his mouth.
"Darling, you really must give me your stylist's number," one of the cousins gushed, fingers clasped as she leaned close to Evelyn. "You're radiant tonight."
"Oh, it's all just a matter of taste," Evelyn said lightly, her gaze drifting lazily across the room—until it snagged, just for a breath, on Lottie. The smile didn't falter, but the corner of her mouth tightened, the delicate lines at the edges of her eyes drawn sharp with tension.
Amy, flushed with wine and Evelyn's reflected glow, tossed a glance over her shoulder, voice pitched with a practiced laugh. "Some of us were born with taste," she called out, a bubble of nervous pride beneath the teasing edge. Lottie met her gaze with the faintest flicker of a smile, serene and unshaken, her head tilting slightly as though she were indulging a child. Amy's cheeks flushed deeper, her fingers twitching where they clung to Evelyn's wrist.
Father stood near the fireplace, posture blade-straight, arms folded loosely across his chest, his eyes cutting through the room with the quiet authority of a man accustomed to control. His brow was faintly furrowed, a shadow between his brows that hadn't been there earlier in the evening. He lifted his glass once, a shallow toast toward a cluster of older relatives, but his gaze never strayed far from his daughters.
The tension under Lottie's skin prickled, a whisper of static as Evelyn's voice rose, bright and sweet, just a shade too polished. "Oh, Aunt Miriam, you should have seen Amy at the auction last week—bless her, she's still learning how these things work. But she's such a darling, aren't you, Amy?"
Amy's laugh cracked, the sound cutting sharply at the end. "Evelyn's been such a help," she stammered, her gaze darting to Lottie for a brief, panicked second before snapping back to Evelyn. Her hands wrung nervously at the skirt of her dress, fingers twisting fabric tight.
Lottie's fingers ghosted over her phone, the pressure light but deliberate. The air around her felt charged, every sound sharpened to a brittle edge—the clink of glasses, the rustle of satin, the muted undercurrent of gossip weaving like smoke through the crowd. She felt the anticipation twist tight in her chest, a drawn wire ready to snap.
"Uploading," the notification glowed softly across her screen.
A pulse of satisfaction stirred in her stomach, dark and sweet, a blooming warmth that spread through her chest like the first sips of something heady. She slid the phone back into her clutch with a flicker of fingers, the motion smooth as a closing fan. Across the room, Leo caught her gaze, a glint of approval flickering in the arch of his brow, the almost-smile curving at his mouth. His shoulders relaxed ever so slightly, his weight shifting casually against a marble column as though they were both simply watching a show.
"Poor Amy," Evelyn was saying now, her voice syrup-thick, lips curved in a smile sharp enough to draw blood. "But don't worry—we'll polish you up in no time."
For a flicker of a heartbeat, Lottie felt a catch in her throat, hot and cold tangled together. Triumph laced with something bitter, an ache that tasted faintly of memory—the girl she had been, the girl who once believed in Evelyn's glittering promises. But the ache hardened into resolve, cold and clean, as she drew a breath through parted lips, the exhale slow, measured.
Mother swept by in a shimmer of silk, laughter ringing like silver bells, her voice lilting as she gushed to a neighbor. "Isn't Evelyn just marvelous tonight?" she said, eyes shining with pride. "I don't know where she finds the time, honestly. A miracle, that girl."
Father's gaze flicked to Lottie, a brief, surgical glance, and moved on. She felt the chill of it graze her skin, the faint sting of dismissal tightening in her chest—but she didn't flinch. Her lips curved faintly, the same quiet, unshakable smile she'd mastered under a hundred watchful gazes.
The room began to shift, the hum of voices rising as the final toast neared. Waiters in starched jackets moved between guests, trays glinting with crystal, the soft pop of champagne corks punctuating the din. Evelyn's laughter chimed again, the sound sparkling like cut glass as she swept her arm through the air, drawing eyes and attention toward her.
Amy leaned in, her voice low and tight. "I just—I'm so lucky to have you." The rawness in her tone twisted something low in Lottie's stomach, a pull she smothered ruthlessly beneath the sharp edge of purpose.
"Of course you are, darling," Evelyn murmured, her hand smoothing down Amy's arm, her smile soft but her eyes glinting cold as she turned her attention back to the crowd.
"Ladies and gentlemen!" Evelyn's voice rang out, clear and lilting, the room rippling into an eager hush. Lottie's breath eased past her lips, slow and cool, her heart a steady drumbeat in her chest.
Leo drifted closer, his fingers grazing the small of her back in the briefest, most unassuming touch, his voice a low murmur against her hair. "Here we go."
Lottie's smile sharpened, the corners of her mouth tightening with the faintest glint of teeth. Evelyn raised her glass, crystal catching the light in a flare of brilliance.
"To family," Evelyn began, her eyes gleaming, the crowd leaning in with poised glasses.
And then—like the first hairline crack slicing through the surface of still water—a murmur stirred. Heads turned, brows knit, conversations faltered.
From near the back of the room, a phone speaker flared to life—soft at first, then unmistakable.
"Oh, honestly, Amy, bless your heart—you're just so… earnest."
For a heartbeat, the room held its breath.
Evelyn froze, glass hovering mid-air, her lips parted in a perfect, trembling curve. Her eyes darted, sharp as a blade, slicing across the room as though she could snatch the words from the air.
Lottie felt her chest tighten, one hard, pulsing beat, then another, before a slow, delicious unfurling loosened her spine. Her fingers relaxed around the stem of her glass, the cool press of it grounding her as the sound spread—soft, then rippling, then rolling across the crowd like a wave gathering speed.
Amy's face blanched, her hands twitching at her sides as the recording played on, Evelyn's voice spilling into the hush, sweet and cruel and unmistakable.
Father's jaw tightened, his glass lowering by slow degrees, the muscle at his temple ticking once, hard. Mother's laughter withered on her lips, her eyes darting between Evelyn and the guests, a brittle sheen of panic flickering across her features.
Lottie stood still amid the storm, her breath smooth, her shoulders square, a thread of quiet triumph winding through her veins. Leo's hand brushed hers in passing, the faintest pulse of warmth, a wordless echo of satisfaction.
As Evelyn's words echoed across the ballroom, as guests turned wide-eyed and murmuring, as the first sharp whispers sliced through the stunned quiet, Lottie lifted her glass once more, the rim cool against her lip.
And she smiled.