Amara POV

The ballroom smelled like wealth and secrets with too much perfume, too many intentions tucked behind polite smiles. Glasses clinked. Laughter floated. And every conversation carried weight.

I smiled, controlled and poised, as the congresswoman from the southern region complimented Cassian’s reform plans. She was older, with silver-streaked hair and eyes that had clearly seen through more lies than most men could tell. But she listened, really listened, and nodded in a way that ...