In the restroom, Arabella Vanderbilt stood tall at the sink, her pale hands placed under the tap, letting the icy water flow through her fingers.
She tried to curl her fingers to catch it, but the running water slipped away through her fingers.
She smiled silently to herself; what's meant to leave will evade grasp no matter what.
With a soft sigh, she tidied up the few droplets of alcohol that had splashed onto her clothes.
As soon as she stepped out of the restroom, Arabella felt a draft pass by. She paused and glanced over to notice a terrace not far down the hallway.
Compared to the clamor of the party, she preferred getting some fresh air on the terrace.
A gentle breeze brushed by, carrying with it a slight chill.
Tonight's gown was her simplest yet most elegant attire. It still bore the intelligent and capable air unique to her, with her figure tall and slender, her proportions perfect, her posture straight and dignified.
