I stood beside the champagne tables in my black server’s uniform, gripping a silver tray, while my daughter waited beneath the chandeliers in a borrowed pale-blue dress, her scuffed shoes barely peeking out from the hem.
Celeste Winthrop raised her glass. “Outdance me, sweetheart, and I’ll give your mother one million dollars.”
Laughter rippled through the ballroom. Phones came out everywhere.
“Lucia,” I said, reaching for her hand. “We’re leaving.”
Celeste stepped between us. “Oh, don’t ruin everyone’s fun.”
My face burned — but before I could answer, Lucia was already looking past me, toward the orchestra.
“Mama, can I dance our song?”
My heart tightened. She meant the melody my mother, Rose, had taught me in her tiny dance studio, years before I lost her. I’d played it for Lucia every time life got unbearable.
“Are you ashamed of my dancing?” Lucia whispered.
I dropped to my knees. “Never.”
“Then let me show them.”
I stood and faced Celeste. “My daughter will dance. But not for your amusement — and not for your money.”
The room went strangely quiet. I walked to the conductor and whispered the name of the piece. His expression changed instantly — and his eyes flicked past me, straight to Adrian Vale.
The first violin note floated through the ballroom.
Adrian froze. His champagne glass stopped halfway to his mouth.
Lucia set her stuffed rabbit at my feet, walked to the center of the floor, and began the choreography my mother had taught me as a child — one step, a turn, then the movement Rose always called the falling star.
Across the room, an elderly woman gasped. Adrian whispered something to her; her hand flew to her mouth. Celeste’s smile disappeared.
“What is happening?” she demanded.
Adrian ignored her completely and walked straight toward me.
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