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I slipped through the grand double doors just as another group of photographers surged towards the entrance, their flashes going off like misfired fireworks.
The doorman discreetly nodded at me—thank goodness for little mercies and I blended into the crowd inside the ballroom before anyone could shout my name again. My heart was pounding against the sapphire silk of my gown, but at least the worst of the red-carpet ordeal was behind me.
From the inside, the Grand Aurum Ballroom was even more breathtaking. Crystal chandeliers dripped light like melted sugar, casting rainbows across the polished marble floors that mirrored every movement.
Waiters in crisp white jackets worked between clusters of guests, balancing trays of champagne flutes and delicate canapés that looked way too pretty to eat.
The air was thick with the scent of expensive perfume, cigar smoke wafting in from the terrace, and the faint metallic tang of money exchanging hands under polite masks.
