George

Charlotte shifts uncomfortably in her seat, her fingers drumming an irregular rhythm on the tablecloth. Her eyes are narrowed, fixed on something across the room. At first, I thought she was zoning out, bored with the gala as usual, but then I followed her gaze. It isn't idle. She's watching someone.

It takes me a second, but then I see it—Ella. She is standing near the grand staircase, chatting with Daniel, an executive at Google I vaguely recognize from one of ...