Alina stood at the doorway as her breath caught in her throat. This wasn't just a party. It was a masterpiece carefully crafted for the elite.
From the massive crowd of nearly three hundred attendees mingling elegantly to the breathtakingly decorated hall filled with golden lights, crystal chandeliers, and soft music drifting through the air, she froze where she stood, momentarily overwhelmed by the beauty and scale of it all.
"Beautiful," she whispered under her breath.
The moment she stepped further into the room and merged with the crowd, the atmosphere subtly shifted again. Conversations slowed, glasses paused midway to lips, and heads turned.
Once more, it wasn't about the party anymore. All eyes slowly fell on her as several people openly gawked in quiet awe.
Was that really Damian Thorn's wife? Was she truly this beautiful in person? Why was she attending alone?
