He wore a black tuxedo and the expression of a man stepping into a portrait painted for him. People naturally turned toward him. He had that gift. Presence. Weight. The effortless authority of someone used to rooms shifting around him.
When he saw me, he smiled.
It was handsome.
It was rehearsed.
It was nothing like the smile he had given Sophia at the airport.
“Madison,” he said, taking my hands. “You look stunning.”
“Thank you.”
His eyes searched my face. “Are you ready?”
“For your surprise?”
A tiny flicker crossed his expression.
“Yes.”
“I’ve been looking forward to it.”
He kissed my forehead.
To anyone watching, it looked tender.
To me, it felt like being prepared for sacrifice.
Then Sophia walked in.
The room did not stop moving, but Ethan’s attention did.
Only for a heartbeat.
A fraction of a second.
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