Rain pelted the streets outside, drumming a relentless rhythm against the limousine’s polished windows, but inside, the warmth and opulence of the Sterling Foundation gala was a stark contrast. Chandeliers glittered like constellations, casting golden light across the grand ballroom. The air smelled of expensive perfume, polished wood, and the faint undertone of anticipation—an invisible current of ambition, desire, and secrecy. Ava Collins adjusted the strap of her silver gown, trying to ...