Paris felt like a trap disguised as elegance.
Glass chandeliers. Marble floors. Voices layered in different accents, laughter echoing too brightly for a place Lyra felt should be quieter.
The Virelli Global Arts Gala was everything the invitation had promised—exclusive, polished, powerful.
And completely wrong.
Lyra stepped out of the car with Aurelian beside her. Cameras flashed, but this time they were expected. Invited. Managed.
This wasn't paparazzi chaos.
This was curated attention.
"He wanted you here," Aurelian said quietly as they entered the venue.
"Yes," Lyra replied. "And now I'm here because I chose to be."
They walked in together.
Not touching.
But unmistakably aligned.
---
Inside, the air smelled like expensive perfume and political conversations disguised as art appreciation.
Lyra could feel eyes on her.
Some curious.
Some admiring.
One calculating.
She didn't know where Elias was.
But she knew he was there.
She could feel it like static on her skin.
---
Her performance slot was scheduled late in the evening.
Plenty of time for waiting.
Too much time.
Aurelian spoke with organizers, his expression polite but distant. Lyra stood near a balcony, looking down at the city lights of Paris and trying to steady her breathing.
"You look calm," a voice said behind her.
She turned.
A man in a gray suit.
No cap this time