The ballroom stretched wide, the ceiling high and painted in pale gold, the walls lined with mirrors and crystal sconces that reflected the soft afternoon light. Ballet dancers moved across the polished marble floor, their slippers whispering against the surface as the orchestra played a delicate instrumental, the music floating through the room like mist. Guests sat at small, round tables arranged along the edges, sipping tea and conversing quietly, their laughter subdued but warm. The room was alive with movement, yet it retained a calm, refined elegance.
Delia and Karen sat together at one of the central tables, a small distance from the dancers. Delia wore a long black dress that clung to her hourglass figure, looking simple yet commanding, her posture straight as she held a glass in her hand without drinking.
Her face remained obscured by her dark veiled hat.
