"I apologize," he said, his voice calm yet firm, his expression briefly shifting to something unreadable beneath his mask—something no one else seemed to notice.
"Oh dear, it seems she's really shy," her mother laughed heartily, waving off the moment as though it was insignificant.
"Sabrina, dear," her mother called suddenly, her voice cutting through the faint hum of the ballroom.
Lilia blinked, momentarily startled by the call, and then it struck her—where was Sabrina? Her eyes darted around the expansive hall, scanning its grand chandeliers and clusters of well-dressed guests, their masks glittering under the soft golden light. Finally, she spotted her sister.
Sabrina was standing near the far end of the room, speaking to someone. Her soft laughter drifted through the air, delicate yet practiced. A graceful curtsey ended the interaction, and with the elegance of someone who had done this a thousand times, Sabrina glided back toward their family, her expression composed as always.
"I apologize, Mother, Father. I saw an old friend and thought it polite to exchange greetings," Sabrina said smoothly, her voice steady, betraying no hint of fluster. "I hope I didn't inconvenience you."
Mr. John, standing beside them, smiled warmly. "You don't need to worry, my dear. Politeness is never an inconvenience."
"Thank you for understanding, sir," Sabrina replied, dipping her head ever so slightly. "It's truly a pleasure to meet you."
The corners of Mr. John's mouth twitched into a wider smile. "I must say, I already like you, Sabrina."
"Oh my, thank you, sir," she responded with flawless charm. "The pleasure is mine."
Her poise was undeniable, and for a moment, Lilia watched her sister with quiet admiration mixed with the faintest tinge of unease. Sabrina had always been the picture of social grace, the kind of person who could navigate any room and charm anyone she encountered. Lilia, on the other hand, often felt like a shadow in comparison.
Sabrina's gaze flickered toward Lowell, who stood beside his father. Her eyes lingered for a moment longer than necessary, and Lilia didn't miss the way her sister's chest rose and fell subtly, as though she were drawing in a steadying breath.
"It seems you brought someone with you, Mr. John," Sabrina remarked, her tone light but deliberate.
Lilia furrowed her brow. How was it that Sabrina seemed to know Mr. John and yet she herself didn't? A tiny knot of discomfort twisted in her chest, but she quickly brushed it aside. Of course, Sabrina would know him. She always seemed to know everyone.
Mr. John chuckled, a deep, warm sound that carried easily over the faint strains of music. "Ah, yes. Allow me to introduce my son, Lowell." He gestured toward the younger man beside him.
Lowell inclined his head politely, his attention shifting from Lilia to Sabrina as the latter offered her hand. "Mr. Lowell," Sabrina said softly, her smile brightening as though she were tasting the name on her tongue.
Lowell hesitated for the briefest moment before taking her hand. He pressed a light kiss to her knuckles, the gesture polite yet distant. His smile, though courteous, didn't quite reach his eyes.
"Such a charming gentleman," Sabrina murmured, tilting her head slightly as though she hadn't noticed his lack of enthusiasm. Her free hand rose to cover her mouth in a feigned display of shyness, her lashes fluttering as she glanced downward.
"You've raised a fine daughter," Mr. John said to Lilia and Sabrina's parents, his approving tone making their mother beam with pride.
"Thank you, sir," Sabrina replied demurely, stepping back with an air of modesty.
Lilia watched the exchange in silence. She felt small, invisible even, as the conversation swirled around her. Sabrina was dazzling as always, commanding attention without trying.
The atmosphere shifted then, the hum of conversation fading as a new presence filled the room. Lilia noticed it first in the way the crowd began to part, whispers rippling like a wave. She turned her head, following the gazes of those around her, and that's when she saw him.
He stood in the center of the ballroom, commanding attention without uttering a single word. If someone hadn't known better, they might have thought he was delivering a speech that demanded focus. Yet, no speech could capture such undivided attention. His silence alone had turned heads—one could only imagine the effect his words might have. The silvery strands of his hair caught the light, casting an almost otherworldly glow around him.
His posture was effortlessly perfect. Lilia couldn't understand why she kept staring, but she couldn't look away. His dark eyes swept across the room, sharp and deliberate, though who or what he was searching for remained a mystery.
There was something about him that set him apart—an air of authority that made people instinctively step back, as though they didn't dare come too close. Yet, they couldn't look away.
Lilia's stomach twisted. He unsettled her, though she couldn't quite pinpoint why. Was it the way he stood, so sure of himself, as though he owned the very ground beneath his feet? Or was it the cold intensity in his gaze, like a predator sizing up its prey?
Sabrina's voice broke the spell, her tone bright and enthusiastic. "Oh my, it's time for the ball dance!" She adjusted her dress with practiced ease, her movements fluid and precise.
Lilia barely registered her sister's words. She was too focused on the man across the room, on the way the crowd seemed to revolve around him. A small group of girls had already gathered nearby, their giggles soft but persistent as they stole glances at him.
He didn't seem to notice—or perhaps he simply didn't care. His gaze continued to sweep the room, indifferent to the attention he was receiving.
Lilia let out a small huff, her irritation bubbling to the surface. "What a proud fellow," she muttered under her breath, the words escaping before she could stop them.
Her eyes widened in horror as the man suddenly turned, his piercing gaze locking onto hers.
For a moment, everything else faded away. The music, the murmurs of the crowd, even the sound of her own breathing—it all disappeared under the weight of his stare.
'Did he hear her?' No, that was impossible. She had barely whispered the words. And yet, the way he looked at her, so deliberate and unyielding, made her wonder.
Her heart hammered against her ribs, her palms growing clammy as whispers buzzed around the room. Sabrina, who had been fussing with her dress, turned to her with wide eyes.
"Lilia," she whispered sharply, her voice tinged with disbelief.
But Lilia couldn't move. She was frozen in place, her body refusing to obey as the man began to walk toward her.
Each step he took seemed to reverberate through the room, the sound of his polished shoes on the marble floor unnervingly loud in her ears. The crowd parted for him like water, their hushed voices barely registering as he closed the distance between them.
Lilia's mind raced. Why was he coming toward her? What was he going to do?
She wanted to look away, to break free from the invisible chain holding her in place, but she couldn't. His gaze pinned her where she stood, unrelenting and impossible to escape.
When he finally stopped in front of her, the space between them felt too small, too charged with an energy she couldn't understand.
He extended his hand, his smirk faint but undeniable as he spoke.
"May I have this dance?"
Lilia's breath caught in her throat, her eyes widening as the weight of his words settled over her. She didn't know how to respond, didn't know what to do. All she knew was that every single pair of eyes in the room was now on her.