~ Niamh ~
The party was extravagant as one would expect from the Valentino family.
Gigantic ice sculptures filled the courtyard and lined the entryway, each with a guard standing in front of them as if they were the most precious thing about the event.
As we stepped into the ballroom, the atmosphere changed instantly. It was like a physical weight dropped onto the room, sucking the oxygen right out of the lungs of every guest present.
Don Giacomo led the way, looking like a king returning to his throne, with Juliette draped elegantly on his arm. The rest of the Valentino family followed in a tight, disciplined formation, with the security escorts bringing up the rear like a shadow that refused to fade.
For a heartbeat, the room went deathly silent. The clinking of crystal glasses stopped. The laughter died. The whispers cut off mid-sentence. Then, as quickly as it had vanished, the noise returned—lower, sharper, and buzzing with a frantic energy.
