She’d been nominated for “Philanthropist of the Year” for her work with the Hail-Beckett Foundation. She’d been telling everyone for weeks how honored she was, how grateful, how “humbled.”
I watched her mingle, touching arms, laughing softly, making people feel like she was listening deeply even when I knew she wasn’t hearing a word.
Paige spotted me across the room and stiffened.
Victoria followed her gaze.
For a moment, her smile faltered. Then it returned, brighter, more deliberate. She glided toward us, heels clicking on marble like a metronome.
“Bonnie,” she said, voice sugary. “Gerald. I’m so glad you came.”
My father’s eyes stayed cool. “Victoria.”
She turned her attention to him, laying a hand on his arm as if she still owned the gesture. “Darling, I’ve missed you,” she purred. “You’ve been so distant lately. I’ve been worried.”
My father didn’t flinch away, but he didn’t lean in, either. “I’ve been busy,” he said evenly.
Victoria’s gaze flicked to me, sharp behind the sweetness. “And you,” she said. “Are you feeling better? Less…agitated?”
I smiled politely. “I feel clear,” I said.