Chapter 10: The Invitation
The letter arrived mid-morning.
It was tucked in a white envelope, sealed with the gold crest of the Kings family. A maid slid it under Florida's door and disappeared.
Florida bent to pick it up, her fingers brushing the polished wax.
She opened it carefully.
> Mr. and Mrs. Bryant Kings are invited to attend the annual Kings Foundation Gala this Saturday, 7 PM sharp. Formal dress required. Attendance expected.
— Hilda Kings
Her stomach tightened.
Formal dress.
Attendance expected.
She didn't own anything close to appropriate. The plain black dress she wore at dinner would look like a rag beside the gowns the elite would wear.
She folded the invitation and placed it on the desk.
That evening, Bryant appeared in her doorway, sharp in his dark shirt, sleeves rolled to the elbows.
He didn't knock. He never did.
"You got the invitation," he said.
Florida stood from her seat. "Yes."
"You'll come. We'll be photographed. Together."
She nodded. "I don't have anything to wear."
His gaze flicked over her — not cruelly, but with disinterest.
"I'll send someone. You'll have a dress by morning."
She lowered her head. "Okay."
He didn't say anything else.
Just turned and walked out.
—
The next morning, a dress arrived.
It wasn't new — not tailored — but expensive. Too expensive for someone like her.
Deep emerald silk. Fitted at the waist, sleeveless, with a high neckline and subtle beading.
Florida stared at it for a long time.
Later that night, the maid helped her dress.
They didn't speak.
By the time she was ready, her nerves were shaking inside her chest.
She met Bryant at the foot of the staircase.
He was adjusting his cufflinks. When he looked up and saw her, he didn't speak right away.
His eyes lingered on her dress. On her face.
Then he offered his arm, stone-faced. "Let's go."
—
The gala was held at a luxury hall glowing with gold and silver lighting. Glass chandeliers swayed overhead, and the walls shimmered with photographs of past Kings events.
People turned when they entered.
Cameras clicked.
Bryant leaned toward her and whispered, "Smile. Hold my hand."
She obeyed.
Her smile was small. Her grip on his hand was loose. But the flashes kept coming.
They greeted people. Posed beside sponsors. Florida barely heard what anyone said.
Liza arrived late — dressed in a champagne gown that glittered under every light.
She floated across the floor like she owned the night.
When her eyes met Florida's, she smiled like they were old friends.
> "Lovely dress," she said, just loud enough. "Did you borrow it from the archives?"
Bryant stepped slightly forward. "Liza."
Her eyes didn't leave Florida.
"I'm just making conversation."
Florida gave a tiny nod and looked away. Her fingers curled into her clutch.
Later in the evening, Bryant escorted her to the edge of the hall and whispered, "Stay here. I'll speak to the board and return."
She nodded.
He left.
And for the first time that night, Florida was alone — surrounded by glittering strangers who didn't know her name.
> Everyone saw the woman on Bryant's arm.
No one saw the girl underneath the dress.
---
End of Chapter 10