The Grand Ballroom of the National Conservatory
Flashbulbs flickered near the grand staircase as the country's elite—diplomats, oil tycoons, and high-ranking politicians—moved past the security checkpoints.
I kept my chin up, my posture perfectly rigid as I stood near the entrance, adjusting the emerald cuff of my gown. But my eyes weren't on the crowd. They were on the girl standing half a step behind me.
Hanalei looked ethereal in the blue dress I had chosen for her, but her eyes were entirely hollow.
"Smile, baby," I murmured under my breath, keeping my practiced First Lady smile in place for the cameras ahead. "The press line opens in three seconds. Pull yourself together.
"This doesn't change anything, Mom," she whispered, her voice flat.
Before I could reply, the curtains pulled back. The director of communications nodded once, and we stepped forward.
The reaction was instant. People fell silent. A second later, cameras flashed from every direction.
