The London Gala was a sea of black ties, shimmering diamonds, and the low, expensive hum of the elite. Tonight wasn't just a foundation event; it was my twenty-fifth birthday-the day I was supposed to be a "mistake" in an alleyway. Instead, I stood in front of a mirror in the vanity room, draped in a gown that felt more like armor than silk.

Lucian was right about the light hitting differently on the metallic teal dress.

"You look ready," Mateo whispered, appearing behind me. He looked lethal in his dark teal and black tuxedo, his hand sliding firmly onto the small of my back.

"I feel like an imposter,"...