The glow of the phone screen faded, leaving me staring at my own reflection for a second—eyes tired, expression flat.
You’re not her anything. Stop pretending you are.
I shoved the phone back into my pocket, stood, and slung the bag over my shoulder. The first stadium light clicked off behind me, then another. The field dimmed in sections, one rectangle of brightness at a time, until I was walking through the last pool of light at midfield.
Each step sounded louder than the one before, like the field was emptying itself of me too.
By the time I reached the gate, the lights went dark completely. Just the faint glow of the parking lot lamps ahead, the hum of the night settling in.
I paused once, hand on the fence, looking back at the shadowed goalposts.
Penance served. Sentence extended.
That was what this was—supposedly my clean slate. Seventy-two hours worked, public image repaired, redemption achieved.
But redemption didn’t feel like freedom. It felt like waiting for a message that wasn’t coming.
And walking away from the one person who’d ever looked at me and seen more than the damage.
Chapter 23
Ellery
The ballroom shimmered in silver and navy—like the whole night had been dipped in moonlight. Our foundation logo glowed softly against the far wall, elegant and reassuring, a promise that all the chaos had been worth it. I told myself it looked perfect because it had to.
I moved through the room with a clipboard in one hand and my nerves in the other. The catering staff was setting the final trays, the AV tech was checking sound levels, and the stage lights were a little too bright—but maybe that was good. Maybe if everything shined hard enough, no one would notice how close I was to unraveling.
Naomi followed behind me, matching my pace like she’d done this a thousand times. “Everything’s perfect,” she said, her tone somewhere between exasperated and fond. “You can stop pacing now.”
I smiled at her, the kind of smile that’s more muscle memory than emotion, and kept moving anyway. “Perfection doesn’t hold itself together,” I murmured.
She groaned dramatically. “Ellery, if perfection had legs, it would’ve run off hours ago. You’re fine. The room’s fine. I’m fine. Everyone’s fine.”
I wanted to believe her. But my pulse still thudded like something waiting to go wrong.
I stopped near the entrance, smoothing a nonexistent wrinkle from the tablecloth. My reflection stared back at me from a polished silver platter—smiling, poised, untouchable. The kind of woman who could host galas, shake hands, raise money. The kind of woman who didn’t wake up remembering a kiss she wasn’t supposed to have wanted.
If everything shines bright enough, no one will see what’s cracking underneath.
That had become my quiet mantra. The gown, the heels, the perfect lipstick—all armor. I’d learned long ago that appearances could buy time, that if you looked composed, people assumed you were.
Behind me, Naomi was giving a volunteer last-minute directions about the seating chart. I could hear her laughter, effortless and warm. I wished I could borrow a little of that lightness.
Instead, I moved toward the silent auction table, double-checking bid sheets I’d already checked twice. Each pen lined up, each brochure squared off. It was ridiculous, but order made me feel safe. Control was easier than honesty.
I straightened one last frame and caught sight of the ballroom doors opening. Guests were starting to arrive—donors, city officials, reporters. All smiles, all sparkle.
I took a deep breath, rolled my shoulders back, and slid into the version of myself they expected—the one who could carry an entire foundation on a few hours of sleep and a carefully rehearsed smile.
Naomi came up beside me and squeezed my hand once. “You’ve got this,” she said softly.
I nodded, the words catching in my throat.
She walked off to greet the first arrivals, leaving me alone for a moment in the middle of the glittering room.
I looked around at what we’d built—the tables, the lights, the stage. It was everything I’d worked for. Everything I thought I wanted.
So why did it feel like the one thing missing was the only thing I couldn’t admit I wanted at all?
