The Mercer Gala had always been Father’s favourite event.Each year, the foundation funded hospitals, technical scholarships, and housing programmes. In my first life, the final gala he attended became a public display of his weakness.This time, he entered the ballroom standing straight.Doctors had cleared him to attend for two hours. Mara’s team tested everything he touched, from his water glass to the microphone.Caelan remained beside me.“You’ve checked the exits six times,” I said.“Seven.”“You promised not to turn this into a prison.”“I’m counting doors, not locking them.”He wore a black tuxedo that made him appear even more severe. Guests watched us as we moved through the ballroom, their curiosity sharpened by the scandals surrounding our marriage.The contract required us to appear affectionate.The problem was that I no longer knew which gestures were performances.Caelan’s hand rested against my waist. When someone approached too quickly, his fingers tightened. When I
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