“Mr. Thorn,” she said.
The formality cut deeper than any insult.
He swallowed.
“What is this?” he asked. “What are you doing?”
She tilted her head slightly.
“Attending the gala,” she said. “I believe I was invited.”
He shook his head.
“No. I removed you. You weren’t—”
“Yes,” she interrupted gently.
“I saw.”
A small pause.
“Thank you, actually.”
Confusion flashed across his face.
“For what?” he asked.
“For clarity,” she said.
The room was listening now.
Every word.
Every breath.
“You helped me understand something tonight,” she continued.
Julian’s chest tightened.
