*****
Then Damian’s mother stepped forward, regal and commanding.
“Yes,” she said, her chin high, her pearls gleaming.
“An engagement. It is only right for the Volt family to welcome Clara, and this precious child, into our home.”
She lifted Damian’s hand and pressed it into Clara’s. The cameras went wild. The reporters screamed. Clara beamed, basking in the chaos, tears sparkling at the corners of her eyes like the final touch on a perfect performance.
Damian didn’t speak.
He stood there, still as a monument, jaw clenched so tightly it looked like it might crack. His eyes slid across the sea of flashing bulbs, searching, always searching—perhaps for someone who wasn’t there.
******
In the small apartment, Emery’s breath caught.
She wanted to stand, to leave, to smash the screen
