Chapter 1: The Bully’s Banquet
The clinking of heavy sterling silver cutlery against fine, imported bone china was a constant, rhythmic undercurrent in the Grand Ballroom of the Whitmore estate. It was a sound that, to the untrained ear, signified elegance and high society. But to me, Amelia Hayes, it was the sound of a gilded cage. Above us, three massive Baccarat crystal chandeliers cast a brilliant, fractured light over a sea of designer gowns, bespoke tuxedos, and faces pulled taut by expensive surgeons.
