Aria walked down the main staircase, still wearing Damien's oversized sweatpants and dress shirt. She had intended to go back to the room and sulk about the dead-end investigation, but the estate had erupted into chaos.
Servants were sprinting through the hallways carrying massive arrangements of white lilies. Footmen were hauling cases of champagne up from the cellar. A team of florists was currently arguing with a team of lighting technicians in the foyer.
It looked like a wedding. Or a very expensive funeral.
Aria stopped a maid who was rushing past with a stack of linen napkins.
"Excuse me," Aria asked. "Is someone... dying?"
"Oh no, Madam," the maid squeaked. "It's the Gala. Mr. Sinclair ordered it an hour ago. The 'Sinclair Harvest Charity Ball'. It's tonight."
Aria blinked. "Tonight?"
"Yes, Madam. Invitations were sent via courier to friends and the local board members. It's... very last minute."
The maid rushed off, looking terrified.
