“Mom,” Lorie whispered, clutching my hand as we walked in. “It looks like a movie.”

“Stay close,” I reminded her, my anxiety spiking.

Inside, the hall was a cavern of blue light and crystal. Chandeliers hung like frozen explosions. Models in silk drifted through the crowd like ghosts. And in the center of it all stood Vanessa.

She wore a silver gown that shimmered like liquid mercury. She looked powerful, untouchable. When she saw us, her smile flickered—a glitch in the matrix.

“Rebecca,” she said coolly, her eyes sliding over me to land on Lorie. “You actually came.”

“I was invited,” I replied, keeping my voice steady.

“And Lorie,” she said, not offering a hug, not even a hand. “Don’t touch anything.”

My parents appeared like shadows flanking her. Susan offered a tight-lipped grimace, while Harold gave a stiff nod. “You look… decent,” my mother said, the compliment dying before it left her lips.

“Thank you,” I said, already exhausted.