THE dining room was quiet, the faint clinking of cutlery against porcelain plates was the only sound that filled the air. Amelia sat across from Hazel, her fork tracing absent circles in her mashed potatoes instead of lifting food to her mouth. The images from the gala played relentlessly in her mind, Adrian's eyes locking with hers in the corridor, the way his voice dipped when he said her name, and Ryan's protective stance beside her, like a wall between two forces threatening to collide.

She sighed softly, pushing a piece of carrot across her plate, hardly aware she hadn't eaten more than two bites. Beth had already rocked the...