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... ng. The ballroom reeked of too much perfume and false courtesy. A hundred wolves in silk and jewels, all pretending not to loathe one another. I stood in the shadows of the grand chandelier-lit hall, a glass of wine swirling in my hand, my Beta Timothy to my right. Gabriella lingered at my side, tense and stiff as usual in public. She hated these things more than I did—so many wandering eyes, so many secrets laced in laughter.

Timothy, leaned close to me, whispering something about a pot ...

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