Freya’s P.O.V

Derek stopped one of the waiters on the way and took the entire tray from him before handing it over to me. I grabbed the tray tightly in my sweaty hands, cared for life that if I dropped these, it would be a loss of hundreds of dollars. The waiter didn’t say anything, just bowed to him and left.

It was when I realized that this wasn’t an ordinary eighteenth birthday party. It was a party for the rich and the elite of Belfast and probably from all over the US. I felt not ...