Rue’s POV

The satin of my dress hugged my frame like a second skin, smooth but suffocating. As I stepped into the soft-lit VIP room, a hush of silence met me.

No chattering guests, no orchestra playing, just that kind of heavy stillness that presses on your chest, the kind that warns you: you’re not just here to be seen, you’re here to make waves.

The dress wasn’t just chosen for beauty. It was armor. My hair was pulled into a sleek, twisted bun, showing the delicate lines of my neck ...