The ballroom went completely still. No movement, no voices, every eye in the room was fixed on the massive screen above the stage, and reality smiling down at them.Mildred felt the blood drain from her face. This wasn’t possible, and yet, there he was. Anthony Frank. The sharp line of his jaw, the faint scar near his left eyebrow, those same dark eyes that had once made her feel safe, there was no mistake.For five years, she had believed he was dead. She had mourned him, hated him, and buried every memory beneath layers of anger and ambition, now he stood before her again, smiling, as if death itself had simply stepped aside for him.“Good evening, Mildred,” his voice carried through the speakers, smooth and calm, laced with quiet amusement. Around her, confusion broke out instantly. “Who is that, what’s going on, is this part of the program?” Mildred barely heard any of it, her pulse thundered too loudly.Beside her, Jack had gone completely pale. Even James’s carefully controlled
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