The inside was just as decorated as the outside—only more beautiful.
Warm golden light spilled from enormous chandeliers, dripping crystals like frozen rain. They glimmered above the hall, reflecting against polished marble floors that stretched endlessly beneath Gianna's heels.
Everywhere she looked, there were reminders of what this auction was supposed to be—what her mother once poured her heart into.
Tall, elegant banners lined the walls, each carrying photographs of children: some smiling brightly in crisp uniforms funded by last year's proceeds, others looking hopeful, hands clasped, waiting for the next chance this charity promised.
Each image tugged at something inside her—a pang of longing, of grief, of resentment.
One thing was sure though: the event planners had outdone themselves.
She watched the servers weave through the swelling crowd in immaculate black uniforms, trays lifted expertly above the throng, each tray brimming with tall, thin flutes of champagne.
