Page 83 of Black Reign

I want invisibility.

So Sabine Beaumont disappears.

In her place is Jenny Hernández, a seasonal worker with decent Spanish, imperfect English, and a history vague enough that people fill the gaps themselves. I let them assume what they want about my immigration status because fear makes people oddly protective. It bothers me to use that instinct, but anonymity has never been a clean business.

Nobody asks for the story if they think hearing it might obligate them to act.

That works in my favor.

Jenny finds kitchen work.

Jenny cleans.

Jenny carries boxes.

Jenny knows how to lower her eyes when rich people walk past.

Nobody looks twice.

That's the irony of wealth.

The richer the room, the more invisible certain people become.

I spend eight days tracing the wedding.

Not through Kane Haverhill.

That would be stupid.

Weddings are ecosystems.

Florists.

Rentals.

Catering.

Musicians.

Transportation.

Temporary staff.

A harpist who advertises every private event she's ever played except the ones she's been explicitly told not to mention.

Small companies with polished websites and badly protected administrative systems.

Invoices passing through too many hands.

Schedules copied into email chains.

No single piece gives me everything.

Together, they build a map.

Palo Alto leads me south.

Santa Barbara creates another thread.