Not concern.
Assessment.
Margot Holt appeared beside her—Professor Sinclair’s partner and the evening’s poised hostess.
Silver gown. Perfect posture. Controlled smile.
“Lauren. You look flushed.”
“I’m fine.”
Margot followed her line of sight—to Sinclair.
“Preston attracts attention,” she said softly. “Not all of it helpful.”
Lauren felt a flicker of confusion. Was she being warned—or evaluated?
“People in this town love a story,” Margot continued. “Especially when it involves a young woman and a powerful man.”
There it was.
Not kindness.
Possession.
“Just be careful.”
Across the room:
Benton laughed too loudly.
Keller avoided her eyes.
Raines spoke to a trustee without looking her way.
Sinclair watched.
Lauren felt it then—the weight of being visible from every direction.
Every mistake refracted through crystal and candlelight.
She smiled when expected.
Clapped when appropriate.
Stayed for the speeches.
For the second paddle raise.
For the photos.
And then, quietly, she slipped out.
The cold air hit her like relief.
Snow fell in a fine, steady drift.
Her heels crunched across the parking lot.
