Chapter 6
The heavy oak front doors of the estate seemed miles away as Julian walked his father across the expanse of the ballroom. The crystal chandelier above chimed softly in the slight draft from the opened service doors, the only sound accompanying their measured steps. Every eye in the room tracked them. Some guests lowered their glasses slowly; others turned their heads away, unwilling to witness a social faux pas of such magnitude. Clara stood near the kitchen entrance, half-hidden in the shadows, her arms still crossed tightly, watching with an expression of quiet disbelief as her meticulously planned evening dissolved before her eyes. Julian felt no regret. Every step forward felt lighter, as if he were shedding a heavy, suffocating coat he had worn for years just to fit into a world that despised his roots. When they reached the grand foyer, the butler made a tentative move forward as if to offer coats, but one sharp, unblinking look from Julian made the man step back into the shadows. Julian pushed open the heavy front doors himself, letting the cool night air rush in to wash away the scent of expensive perfume and stale anxiety. He guided his father down the wide stone steps toward the gravel driveway, where the valet stand flickered under a yellow lantern. The night was dark, quiet, and blessedly real.
