#Chapter 95: Impressions

Iris “You’re sure you can handle this?” Arthur asks, his hand resting on the small of my back. We’re standing just outside the ballroom entrance, about to make our reappearance. I take a deep breath, smoothing the front of my new black dress. It’s simpler than the emerald gown—a sleek, form-fitting sheath with a high neck and tasteful slit up one side—but the fabric is luxurious, and it makes me feel powerful somehow. Like armor. “Yes,” I confirm, lifting my chin. Arthur offers me his arm, and I place my hand on it, holding my head high as we step back into the glittering ballroom. The effect is immediate—conversations falter, heads turn, eyes lock onto us. I can already hear the whispers rippling through the crowd. “She’s back…” “I heard they tore her dress to shreds…” “Look at her, acting like nothing happened…” I keep my expression neutral, refusing to show any sign that the stares and whispers affect me. Inside, my stomach is twisting