Chapter 4
My pumps stuck to marble. Not stuck — heel caught in seam between polished slabs near staircase base. Toddler pressed face into my neck, breathing fast, shallow. Her white cardigan slipped off one shoulder. I pulled it up.
Guests stared. Not all. Enough. Circle widened around me. Warm chandelier light made everything too bright, too exposed. WOMAN_B still stood two feet away, magenta satin catching light at waist cutout, black clutch tight in hand, smirk gone flat. MAN held locket somewhere behind me, blocked by tuxedos. I couldn't see him.
Toddler whimpered. Legs kicked against my champagne dress. I bounced her once, automatic.
Staff woman appeared left side. Early forties, black vest, headset, soft shoes not heels. She didn't touch me, just leaned close.
"Ma'am, dressing suite free upstairs," she whispered. "Quiet. Private. Come with me."
Relief hit knees before brain. Private space. Door that closed. Toddler needed quiet, needed away from marble and eyes and WOMAN_B's black strappy heels.
I nodded. "Please."
She turned, hand hovering at my elbow, not grabbing. Led me toward curved staircase, wrought-iron railing dark against marble. Guests parted. I followed, one hand under toddler's bottom, other clutching dress hem so not to trip. Beige pumps clicked loud despite trying to step soft. Inferred audio — heel clicks echoing off marble, low gala murmurs still going, string underlay tense.
Halfway to stairs, WOMAN_B moved. Not after me — sideways, toward headset staff's supervisor near champagne table. Blonde hair swung. I watched over shoulder while walking.
She touched supervisor's arm, leaned in, spoke low. Supervisor nodded fast. Host status. This was her foundation gala, her ballroom, her staff. My stomach dropped.
Supervisor lifted wrist mic. Spoke. My staff woman's headset crackled. She paused at staircase base, pressed earpiece, frowned.
"Change," she said to me, quiet. "Suite B now. Not A."
"Why?"
"Host request. Suite B farther back. More privacy."
Lie. I heard lie in her voice. Suite B farther meant isolated. Meant WOMAN_B redirected us. Meant WOMAN_B kept key, kept access, kept control of which door I went behind.
I looked back. WOMAN_B watched, controlled smile back in place, black clutch held with both hands now. She didn't follow yet. Didn't need to. Staff would deliver me.
Toddler started crying — real cry now, tired and scared, face red. Guests turned again. MAN still stuck. I saw him twenty feet away, three men in tuxedos around him, one hand on his shoulder, other gesturing at locket in his palm. Foundation officials. He looked toward me, tried to step, official blocked path, talked faster. Locket stayed with him. Good and bad. Safe from WOMAN_B, but not with me.
Staff woman waited. "Ma'am?"
I had choice — refuse suite, stay on ballroom floor exposed, or follow isolated suite WOMAN_B chose.
Toddler cried louder. No choice really.
"B," I said.
She led up staircase, slow so I could carry toddler safe. Polished marble cold through thin soles. Wrought-iron railing brushed my shoulder. Upstairs hallway narrower, carpet finally, sound dampened. Air cooler. Chandelier light replaced by wall sconces, warm but dimmer.
Hallway stretched. Doors numbered. Suite A passed — open, lit, empty, perfect. Staff woman didn't stop.
Suite B at end, near service exit. She keyed it, pushed door wide.
Small room. Vanity mirror rimmed with bulbs, beige couch, rack of coats. Private bathroom door ajar. Window high, locked. Warm, quiet. Smelled like hairspray and clean laundry.
I stepped inside, toddler still crying but softer now walls closed around us.
Staff woman lingered doorway. "Host asked not to be disturbed. She'll check later."
There it was. WOMAN_B outside network. Not locked out — given key.
"I understand," I said. Voice hoarse.
She nodded, sympathy flickered, then headset crackled again and she stepped back.
Door closed. Click. Not lock, just close.
Silence fell except toddler breathing, my breathing, faint bass of ballroom below. Momentary safety. I slid to couch, held toddler tight with both arms, champagne satin wrinkled under her light blue dress. White mary janes kicked my lap.
May you like
I stared at closed door. WOMAN_B out there, moving freely. MAN downstairs, distracted, locket in his pocket. Me alone in dressing suite she selected.
Safe for minute. Not safe for night.
