"Seraphina!"
The voice sent a chill down her spine, her name alone suddenly hitting harder than any insult ever could. Everything inside her recoiled at the sound...
Her spine stiffened, and her fingers tightened around the glass in her hand. She swallowed hard and, with a last shallow breath, she held her head high. Slowly and reluctantly – with grace and elegance that Sere had refined over the years---
She turned.
And there she was!
Her mother…
Lady Vivienne Arclaire.
She moved across the floor with practiced dignity and elegance.
Impeccable!
Not a strand of her dark hair was out of place, framing her face in a perfect up-do. Her gown was made of the finest silk in a deep emerald that clung to her figure like status. Somewhere in the crowd stood her new husband – a man Sera barely acknowledged existed – watching her with that disgusted, detached glare that she was used to.
At least her mother was smiling and pretending that she cared.
Her lips curved.
