Chapter 2

Alaric's touch brought her back.

"Sarah? You look pale."

"Just a ghost from the past," she murmured, trying to keep her voice light.

He followed her gaze.

"Ethan Hayes. State Department, isn't he?"

Alaric's intelligence network was thorough.

He knew of her past, the broad strokes.

"My ex-fiancé," Sarah confirmed, the words tasting like ash.

"Ah."

His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly.

Liam, oblivious, finished his cake.

"Mama, can we go see the big fountain outside? Please?"

"Maybe for a few minutes, sweetie. Stay close to Gregor."

Gregor, their head of security, was never far.

As Liam darted off, with Gregor trailing, Sarah took a deep breath.

"I need a moment. I'll just check on Liam."

Alaric nodded, his eyes filled with understanding.

"I'll be here."

Sarah moved through the throng, the Valorian silk of her gown whispering around her ankles.

Some glances lingered, a few dismissive.

The gown was understated by D.C. wealth standards, perhaps mistaken for something less.

Valorian custom valued elegance over ostentation.

She spotted Liam near a dessert table, trying to sneak a look at the champagne fountain.

As she approached, a waiter, laden with a tray of hors d'oeuvres, backed into her.

The tray clattered, canapés scattering.

"Oh, goodness, I'm so sorry, madam!"

The young waiter flushed crimson.

"It's quite alright," Sarah began, bending to help.

A familiar, condescending smirk cut through the air.

"Well, well. Sarah Miller?"

Ethan Hayes stood there, Jessica Vance glued to his side, her hand possessively on his arm.

Jessica's eyes, cold and assessing, raked over Sarah.

"Still trying to get my attention after all these years, Sarah? Pathetic."

Ethan's smirk widened.

"Even if you begged to be my intern, I wouldn't be interested. Some people just never learn to aim higher."

Sarah straightened, her heart pounding a furious rhythm against her ribs.

She felt the old humiliation, the phantom pain of his betrayal, wash over her.

She had thought herself immune.

She was wrong.

Jessica, smugly cradling her pregnant belly, chimed in.

"Honestly, Ethan, some people just can't move on. Sarah, dear, is that what you're wearing? Are you part of the catering staff now?"

She ostentatiously pulled a hundred-dollar bill from her clutch.

"Here, buy yourself something presentable. You look like you need it."