Ava

Four months later.

The hall was packed—buzzing with whispers, lights flashing from cameras, and the distant clatter of heels against marble floors. I sat among a sea of elegantly dressed strangers, my heart pounding so hard it could burst right through my chest.

Beside me, my mother squeezed my hand tightly, her palm just as clammy as mine. She whispered encouragements I could barely hear over the rush of blood in my ears. I smiled nervously, trying to hide how terrified I really was.

Up on the stage, the announcer smiled brightly under the harsh lights. She shuffled a golden envelope in her hands, drawing out the tension like...