At the party, everything would unfold exactly as planned. The truth in that gift box would carve through their lies like glass. Grandma Madeline would know what they’d done.
Everyone would.
And by the time the murmurs spread across the ballroom—by the time faces turned, shocked and whispering— they would also know one more thing:
I wasn’t theirs to break anymore.
I had married Isaac Holt.
And the moment my name was announced… their entire world would burn.
“Remember,” he said under his breath, voice calm but edged with warning. “We play the role. No cracks. No hesitation.”
Maxon paused just outside the ballroom doors, the low hum of conversation and clinking glasses leaking through the polished wood. He adjusted his cufflinks once—slow, deliberate—then turned to Victoria.
Victoria crossed her arms, jaw tightening. “I am trying, okay?” she hissed back. “But you’re not Lewis.”
Maxon’s eyes flicked to the doors, then back to her. “Not here. Not now.”