The crystal chandelier hums above me like a hive, and all around, silk gowns rustle in uneasy silence. Jay’s arm is tight around my waist as he says, 'Don’t pick on my wife. She’s just a country girl, you know how it is.'\n\nLaughter dies instantly. They look at me—the woman who stitched Senator Vale’s throat shut after the bombing, the same hands that served them lavender tea last week. I smile, soft and blank, the way he likes.\n\nBut then Mrs. Delacroix sneers, 'She doesn’t even wear real diamonds.'\n\nI tilt my head. 'No. These were my grandmother’s. Like the knife I keep under our bed. You’d be surprised what it’s good for.'\n\nJay chuckles, thinking it’s a joke. The others don’t.\n\nMy earpiece buzzes—Elias’s voice: 'They moved the shipment up. Tonight.'\n\nI have minutes to decide: slip out now and intercept the convoy alone, confront Jay about his mother’s involvement, or let the toxins flow and wait for a better moment.