Charity galas exist so rich people can feel generous while drinking champagne that costs more than my textbooks.

Lucas’s hand rests warm on my lower back, guiding me through the crowd with practiced ease. His smile is camera-ready, teeth white enough to blind passing satellites.

I’m wearing deep blue silk, my mother’s favorite color. She would have loved this dress—the way it catches light when I move, the way it makes my eyes look almost emerald.

The fabric feels like armor against my skin tonight. I need all the protection I can get.

“You look stunning,” Lucas murmurs against my ear, breath warm on my neck. “Every man in this room is jealous of me right now.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere, Bennett.”

“That’s what I’m counting on.”

His laugh is easy and uncomplicated, the sound of someone who’s never had to question whether happiness was something he deserved.

My father and Catherine host their table with synchronized grace. They’ve perfected this dance of couplehood, anticipating each other’s needs before words become necessary.

Catherine catches my eye across the table and smiles warmly.

“You two look absolutely lovely together,” she says, gesturing between Lucas and me. “Like something from a magazine spread, honestly.”

My father beams beside her, pride radiating from every pore.

“The Bennetts raised a fine young man.” He claps Lucas on the shoulder with paternal approval. “I couldn’t be happier about you two spending time together.”

“Thank you, sir.” Lucas straightens slightly, basking in the validation. “Serena makes it easy to be a gentleman.”

The exchange should warm me, but guilt curdles in my stomach like spoiled milk, heavy and sour.

Then I see him.

Caleb stands at the bar, alone, wearing a black tuxedo that looks like it was sewn directly onto his body.

The jacket emphasizes his shoulders in ways that should be illegal at charity functions. The white shirt contrasts against his jaw, stubble visible even from across the room, and my mouth goes dry despite my best efforts.

I hate that I notice. I hate more that I can’t stop noticing, can’t stop cataloging every detail like my brain is building a file against my own sanity.

He’s nursing whiskey and watching me with an intensity that burns across the crowded ballroom, cutting through crystal and champagne and small talk.

Our eyes meet for one searing moment before I force myself to look away.

“Want to dance?” Lucas asks, already guiding me toward the floor.

“I’d love nothing more.”

We move through the crowd, and I steer us in the opposite direction from the bar. Away from dark hair and blue eyes and the weight of secrets I’m still choking on.

Lucas pulls me closer on the dance floor, his hand spanning my lower back, and I let him. I laugh louder at his jokes when I feel those eyes on me. Let my head fall back when he dips me dramatically.

The performance of not caring is exhausting, but I commit to it with the dedication of someone auditioning for an Oscar.

“My father’s partner wanted to meet you.” Lucas guides me toward a cluster of silver-haired men. “He’s been asking about my mysterious pre-law girlfriend all evening.”

“I’m not your girlfriend,” I remind him gently, but I let him make the introductions anyway.

I watch Lucas as he navigates the room, searching for cracks in his polished exterior. The monster Caleb described should leave traces, shouldn’t he?

But Lucas asks if I need water when he notices me flushed from dancing. He remembers my coffee order from three weeks ago. He introduces me to his mother with genuine pride instead of possession.

Where is the predator hiding behind that easy smile? Where are the warning signs I should be cataloging?

Every interaction only reveals more kindness, more consideration, more evidence that Caleb lied to manipulate me into his bed.

I smile and nod and say the right things to the right people. Lucas is attentive and charming, the perfect escort for an evening designed to impress.

I should be grateful. I should be present, fully here with this kind man who wants nothing except my company.

And yet I keep scanning the room for dark hair and a cruel mouth, searching for him even as I pray not to find him.

The rest of the evening passes in a blur of small talk and champagne I don’t taste.

When the gala finally winds down, I excuse myself and escape to the balcony for air. The November cold hits my flushed skin like relief, sharp and clarifying.

I grip the stone railing and breathe, finally alone with the night sky and my racing thoughts.

Or so I think.

The click of a lighter makes me spin around, heart slamming against my ribs.

Caleb leans against the far end of the railing, cigarette between his lips, watching me like he’s been waiting all night for exactly this moment.

“I didn’t know you smoked.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me.” Smoke curls from his mouth, silver in the moonlight. “Though I suppose that cuts both ways now, doesn’t it?”

I don’t answer. I can’t.

The city sprawls beneath us, lights glittering like earthbound stars, and somewhere in the distance, a siren wails.

He takes another drag, the ember glowing orange against the darkness.

“You’ve been avoiding me all night, Serena.”

“I’ve been enjoying the gala.” The lie tastes bitter on my tongue. “Not everything is about you, Caleb.”

“No?” He pushes off the railing, closing the distance between us with slow, deliberate steps. “Then why do you keep looking for me in every room you enter?”

“I don’t—”

“You do.” He stops close enough that I can feel the heat radiating from his body despite the November chill. “You’ve been watching me all night while pretending not to, and I’ve been watching you pretend.”