Left alone again, Elena exhaled slowly.
Her eyes wandered across the party, catching sight of Damian speaking with an investor, his usual unreadable expression in place.
Something inside her twisted. She didn't understand why she cared so much—why seeing him near Isabel earlier had hurt the way it did.
A soft voice pulled her out of her thoughts. "You look like someone who needs this," Tatiana said, appearing out of nowhere with two glasses of champagne.
Elena forced a smile, taking the glass. "Thanks."
They both sipped, standing to the side, their eyes scanning the glittering crowd.
Then Tatiana nudged her elbow toward a familiar figure entering the hall. "Look who it is," she said under her breath.
It was Isabel—glamorous as always, wearing a silver gown that caught the light, her chin held high as if she owned the room.
Tatiana rolled her eyes. "Ugh, the audacity. she still walks like she's the queen of Moscow."
