//CLARA//

I admired Adelaide Chase’s gown openly, letting my gaze travel over the intricate lace, the delicate stitching that had probably taken some poor seamstress days to complete. It was the kind of dress that was meant to be seen under the chandeliers of a palace.

What a waste.

"What a beautiful dress, Miss Chase." I smiled, all sisterly warmth and hidden knives. "The stitching is simply exquisite. Paris?"

I was grace itself. The epitome of refined ladyhood. As if I hadn’t spent the last hour imagining her sacked and sinking to the bottom of the Newport harbor. Maybe weighted with rocks.

"Oh, Miss Thorne. You look lovely." Adelaide preened as she turned to me, giving me a cheek-to-cheek kiss that society required and nobody meant. "I had it custom made from a little shop near the Rue de la Paix. I could give you the name, if you’d like."

"I would love that."

I’d served my function on a silver platter. I excused myself a moment later, murmuring about the powder room, and she nodded.

She was glowing. Especially when the whispers turned to her becoming Mrs. Casimir Guggenheim.

I let her enjoy it. It wouldn’t last.

All the while, the other half of the room had already crowned me a princess. They were placing bets on which tiara I’d wear the next ball of the season.

But I wasn’t here to collect crowns. And I’d already burned my own fairy tale to the ground.

I circled back through the refreshment line. The staff was overwhelmed, trays of chilled lemonade and spicy ginger-infused punch sitting unattended for mere seconds.

I uncapped the small vial of concentrated capsaicin oil—something I’d borrowed from the kitchen’s private stash of exotic spices—and emptied every last drop into the glass of peach nectar.

I’d watched the servants long enough to know exactly which glass went to which seat. The footman was too busy arguing about champagne to notice.

Perfect.

Then, I moved.

I simply glided past on my way back to Felipe, close enough that my heavy skirts brushed against something. Beneath the layers of silk and petticoat, my heel found the delicate thread of the train. I anchored my weight on it and pivoted, tugging it along.

The sound was a soft, satisfying whisper of fabric giving way, swallowed by the swell of the orchestra.

I kept walking and didn’t look back until I reached Felipe’s side.

"Ah, there she is."

"Powder room emergency." I smiled. "So, what did I miss?"

"Mr. Sanders was just explaining the difference between American and European railway gauges." Felipe gestured to a portly gentleman beside him. "Fascinating stuff."

I nodded, letting the conversation wash over me. My mind was already counting. Waiting.

Three minutes later, the first act hit.

From the corner of my eye. Adelaide took a long, thirsty sip of her nectar. Then, her eyes widened, her hand flying to her mouth. I watched from across the room as her lips began to flush a frantic, angry red, swelling until they looked bee-stung and raw.

That should keep you from smiling for a while, I thought, a cold, dark satisfaction settling in my chest.

Then, the second act. She tried to turn, frantically reaching to find Casimir—who apparently vanished without a trace, and the tension of her movement finished what my heel had started.

The lace train unspooled with a sickening fluidity, like a wound opening up. It was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. The back of her gown sagged, revealing the ugly, functional seams of her corset.

"My dress—ah! My mouth—It burns! Help!"

Her scream was a strangled croak, her hands fluttering uselessly between clutching her gaping bodice and clawing at her swollen lips, unable to decide which disaster to hide first.

Terrific.

She looked messy. A woman coming apart at the seams. Quite literally.

Her lipstick had smeared across her chin. Her eyes were red-rimmed and streaming.

Beautiful.

I turned with the rest of the room, my expression perfectly calibrated. Confusion at first, then sympathy. A touch of horror for flavor.

Her eyes swept the crowd, searching for a culprit, hunting for the face that matched the crime. They passed over mine. Why wouldn’t they? I was just a concerned bystander. A fragile ward in ivory. And chaos.

"Oh no," I breathed, pressing a hand to my chest. "The lace must have caught on something sharp. And poor Miss Chase... she looks... horribly flushed."

Horribly unfortunate. Poor, poor Miss Chase.

"How awful for her," Felipe murmured, and he sounded like he actually meant it.

Poor man. He had no idea he was standing next to the culprit.

Adelaide’s parents rushed to her side in panicked whispers. They tried to shield her from the onslaught of the murmuring crowd. The same society they worshipped, now watching their golden girl’s collapse with the hunger of sharks sensing blood.

Tears streamed down her cheeks, carving tracks through her powder. She clutched her ruined bodice with one hand and chugged glass after glass of water with the desperate franticness of a thirsty camel. All grace abandoned, all pretense forgotten.

You wanted his attention, right? You have everyone’s now.

She was ushered out within minutes, her father practically dragged her toward the stairs in a flurry of ruined silk and muffled sobs.

The crowd dissolved back into conversation, swallowing the scandal in murmurs before moving on. A dreadful spectacle, they called it. The orchestra struck up another waltz as if nothing had happened.

I picked up my champagne and took a slow sip. My gaze fixed on the stairs where Adelaide had just disappeared. But the satisfaction blooming in my chest withered the second my eyes landed on him.

Our gazes caught.

Casimir was leaning against a marble pillar like he had nowhere else to be, half-shrouded by the shadows. His indifferent mask was perfectly intact. He didn’t offer me a disapproving scowl, but his eyes told me enough.

That he’d watched the entire execution. Every careful, cruel little detail.

The music swelled, sweeping waltz. The rhythm deepened, the cellos vibrating against the floorboards like a warning. 𝑓𝑟ℯ𝘦𝓌𝘦𝘣𝑛𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓁.𝑐ℴ𝓂

Felipe’s voice cut through the haze. "May I have this dance, Eleanor?"

My gaze snapped away from the shadows where Casimir lurked, and I forced a smile onto my face that felt like a fragile porcelain mask. I took his hand, letting him lead me into the middle of the floor.

We glided across the marbled floor like we’d been dancing together for years. With effortless grace, he twirled me until the gold-leafed walls blurred into a streak of light.

He was the perfect partner, the perfect prince. As the music dipped, he slowed our pace, and guided me to the edge of the room. But still enough for everyone to see.

Felipe reached into his pocket and produced the velvet rectangular box.

The room went silent. Not the comfortable kind. It vacuumed the air from your lungs and left you standing in the middle of it, exposed.

I could feel every eye in the room. Especially Aunt Cornelia’s sharp approval.

He opened the lid. A cascade of diamonds caught the glow of a thousand candles, throwing light across the room like shattered stars. A collective gasp rippled through the crowd, a wave of envy and awe that felt like a physical gust of wind.

"For you," Felipe said, his eyes searching mine.

I stared at the necklace. "Your Highness—Felipe—No, I can’t—you shouldn’t."

"I insist." His voice was gentle, but firm. "I’ve been meaning to give this to you since the moment we met. Consider it a token of my... intentions."

Intentions? I knew exactly what that meant. I wasn’t a fool. But the diamonds had strings, and we’d only met yesterday.

It felt too rushed. Too sudden.

He lifted it from the box. It was beautiful. It was terrifying. My throat went dry.

Should I? Every instinct screamed no. But the room was watching. And somewhere behind me, a pair of eyes I refused to acknowledge was burning a hole through my spine.

And that was all the push I needed. I swallowed the no and replaced it with a smile that was its own kind of lie.

Felipe took it as a yes and relief washed over his face. He quickly stepped behind me while I stood perfectly still. His fingers brushed the nape of my neck as he fastened the clasp, his touch so light, so cautious, I barely felt it at all.

Nothing like the hands that had left bruises on my thighs while the ocean listens to my plea. Nothing like the man who had bitten my skin and called it worship.

The diamonds settled against my collarbone.

"It suits you perfectly," Felipe murmured, stepping back to admire it.

"Does it?" I whispered, feeling the heaviness of the stones like lead against my heart.

I finally gathered the courage to turn my gaze back toward the corner, toward the shadows—Casimir was gone.