The echoes of applause from the dance still lingered in Sara's ears as the gala shifted into quieter conversations. The orchestra played a softer tune, and waiters drifted between clusters of guests. For once, she wasn't the invisible figure in the corner.
But the glow of the moment couldn't erase the unease simmering in her chest. Grace hadn't said a word since the dance. She smiled politely, mingled with dignitaries, and played the perfect hostess's role. Yet behind her calm exterior, Sara sensed something else — a storm waiting for its turn.
"Catch your breath?" Lina's voice whispered at her side. She had slipped into the hall late, dressed in midnight blue that suited her bold spirit.
Sara nodded faintly. "If breath means pretending not to collapse, then yes."
Lina smirked. "You didn't just survive out there, you owned it. Emily nearly cracked her teeth from grinding so hard."
Sara managed a laugh, small but real. "She won't let this go."
"She never does," Lina said flatly. "But don't worry. I've got eyes on her."
Sara's heart warmed. For all the shadows pressing in, Lina was her constant flicker of light.
Later in the evening, Sara slipped away from the crowd. She needed air, space to breathe away from the masks and whispers. She wandered into a side corridor draped with velvet curtains, dimmer and quieter than the glittering hall.
That was when she heard them.
Grace's voice. Low, careful, sharp.
"…You assured me the Zhao heir is still interested?"
Another woman's voice answered, smooth and cold. "The Zhao family has no issue with the arrangement. Your daughter is… malleable. She'll serve her role. The heir doesn't care for love, only alliances."
Sara froze, her heart hammering. Arrangement? Alliance?
Grace's reply was almost a hiss. "She doesn't know yet. And she doesn't need to. All she has to do is obey when the time comes. By then, her little distractions at school will be meaningless."
Sara's nails dug into her palms. A wave of betrayal surged hot through her veins. So that's it. I'm not even a daughter to her. I'm a pawn.
The voices grew softer as they moved further down the corridor. Sara backed into the shadows, pressing against the cold wall until they disappeared.
Her chest tightened with every ragged breath.
The gala suddenly felt suffocating, the air too heavy to breathe. She wanted to run, but her father's image flashed in her mind — smiling tonight, proud to walk at Grace's side. Would he believe her if she told him what she'd overheard? Or would he dismiss it, just as he always dismissed her pain?
The answer hurt more than she could admit.
Back at the hall, Sara returned with a mask of calm. No one noticed her trembling hands. Daniel, however, caught her eyes instantly. He stepped closer, his voice low.
"Something happened." It wasn't a question.
Sara shook her head quickly, forcing a smile. "Nothing. Just needed air."
Daniel studied her, gaze sharp as if he could peel away the mask she wore. But he didn't press. He simply offered his steady presence, his silence saying more than words.
Across the room, Emily was laughing too loudly, the false kind of laughter that tasted like poison. Grace clinked glasses with the Zhao matriarch, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction.
And Sara stood between them all — the girl in silver, holding secrets that burned like fire in her chest.
She clenched her fists softly. I won't be their pawn. Not Grace's. Not the Zhaos'. Not anyone's.
For the first time in years, the fire inside her didn't just flicker. It blazed.
Later that night, when the gala ended and the family car carried them home, Grace leaned closer to her husband, whispering sweetly about alliances and opportunities. Sara stared out the window, the city lights streaking past like falling stars.
Her reflection in the glass looked different somehow. Sharper. Older. Determined.
She whispered to herself, so soft no one else could hear:
"You think I don't see your game, Grace. But I do. And I will find a way to break it."
The night swallowed her vow, carrying it like a secret flame into the future.