“Are you hurt, Miss Harrison?”
The name landed softly, but it moved through Lenora like a door opening in the dark.
Darnell heard it too.
His face hardened. “What did you call her?”
Mr. Wilson’s jaw tightened. He reached for the small radio clipped to his belt and turned slightly away, shielding his voice with his hand.
“Code Harrison,” he said, low and urgent. “I repeat, Code Harrison. She’s here. Send Mr. Vincent to the ballroom immediately.”
Darnell laughed once, sharp and ugly.
“What is this?” he demanded. “Some kind of performance?”
Candace stepped closer, her diamond bracelet catching the light. She looked down at Lenora with a smirk that had never once reached her eyes. Candace Moore was beautiful in the polished, expensive way that made rooms rearrange themselves around her. Her hair was swept into a sleek bun. Her red lipstick had not moved all night. She wore a silver gown that clung to her like confidence.
