When the grand doors of the banquet hall swept open to the strains of an elegant melody, Maria Ethel believed with absolute certainty that her world had transformed irrevocably.
Everything was perfect.
Flower petals cascaded toward her in graceful spirals. Crystalline lights blazed with dazzling brilliance. Her engagement gown—a confection of white silk dusted with diamond powder—sparkled with every breath she drew. Jewels of every description adorned her person, each one selected to make her shine like the star she knew herself to be.
And the gazes—oh, the gazes that followed her every step.
She wished to demonstrate this truth beyond all doubt. The person worthy of this exalted position—where even foreign delegations gazed upward in reverence—was not some common-born half-blood, but the precious Maria Ethel.
Most especially to Olivia Madeleine, who would surely be looking up at her from somewhere in the banquet hall with a face twisted in envy and despair.
Maria's ecstatic pleasure coursed through her entire being, radiating from the tips of her toes to the crown of her head. Her heart swelled so magnificently that she feared it might burst from sheer joy.
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