"I don't see why I have to wear a noose," Billy mumbled, scowling at his reflection in the mirror.
The tiny bow tie was indeed a miniature version of the constraints we were all living under.
I finished fastening my simple black dress—a uniform of sorts.
"Because Cordelia has decreed it," I said, my voice softer than I felt. "She's created a whole schedule leading up to the Gala. And apparently, step one is a formal family dinner."
I knelt before him, straightening his little suit jacket. "But I heard a rumor… Carly will be there."
His scowl lessened by a fraction. "Really?"
"Really. So you won't be alone. Just… try to remember your manners, okay? For me?"
He gave a long-suffering sigh that was far too old for his eleven years. "Okay, Mom."
The walk to the dining room was a march to the gallows.
The long mahogany table was a battlefield, laid with glinting silver and crystal that seemed designed to magnify every moment of unease.
