Chapter 6
Jonah unlocked dressing suite door finally. Lock clicked loud. He didn't look at me when he did it. He just pulled door open, stepped back, gestured toward hallway like he held manners.
Hallway air felt colder than suite. Music from ballroom still playing low, string quartet trying to keep evening alive. Guests hadn't left. I heard low murmur, glass clink, someone laughed nervously and cut off quick.
I followed Jonah out. Bare feet on marble now, not carpet. Bruises on shoulder burned under dress strap. Floor still had reflective debris near staircase, little glass shards catching chandelier light. No one had cleaned it.
Jonah walked ahead toward ballroom periphery, posture composed again, hand smoothing jacket at torso. Guests lingered near curved staircase and along walls. No one danced. Everyone watched sideways.
Father stood near far column, hands in pockets, not moving closer yet. He watched me. That steadied my legs.
I looked for two women from earlier — champagne dress with diamond necklace, black halter dress with wavy hair. They stood near bar table, shoulders tight, champagne flutes untouched. They had shown shock before, mouths open. Now they stared at floor when I approached.
I stepped toward them. My dress slit brushed debris. I stopped two feet away.
"Excuse me," I said. Voice hoarse.
Champagne dress woman glanced up then away fast. Eyes went to Jonah, then to her drink. Black halter dress woman turned profile, pretended to check phone. No answer. Shoulders rose, held.
I tried again. "Did you see—"
"No," champagne dress woman said quick, too quick. "We didn't see anything."
Not cruel. Scared. She wouldn't meet my eyes. She stared past my bruised cheek like bruise wasn't there.
Behind me, man in navy suit whispered to his wife. Not to me. Words carried.
"That's her father," he said low. Identification, not help. He nodded toward my father by column, labeling him for crowd. Like father was problem to name, not person to call over.
Wife whispered back, "Don't get involved."
I heard it clear. My chest went tight. I realized then — crowd wouldn't cross Jonah.
Jonah belonged here. Mansion was his, ballroom was his, foundation name on donor wall was his. Guests knew his rules meant their invitations next year. My bruises were inconvenience. His house, his rules still covered everyone even outside suite.
Father started walking toward me then. Slow, deliberate. Guests parted for him, not for me.
Jonah intercepted him halfway, smile back on. He put hand out like host greeting late arrival.
"Mr. Adler," Jonah said, voice warm, controlled. "Glad you could make it. Elise was just overwhelmed. Emotional night."
Father didn't take hand. He looked past Jonah at me.
"Elise?" he said.
I stood between two women who wouldn't look at me, debris glittering around bare feet. I felt gown thin against bruised skin, felt all eyes measuring whether I'd cause scene.
I understood then. No guest would speak first. No guest would say what they'd seen — man gripping arm, woman kneeling crying, debris scattered. They'd wait for Jonah to define story, then repeat it.
I shook head small at father. Not no to him. No to crowd.
"I tried," I said to him, quiet. Meant guests. He nodded once, understood.
Jonah's smile tightened when I didn't play overwhelmed. He turned to nearby guests, included them.
"She's tired," he said. "We've all had long night."
Two women nodded, relieved to have script. Champagne dress woman finally looked at me, eyes apologetic but empty.
"We hope you feel better," she said. Formal, distant. Like I had cold.
No one asked who did this to me. No one asked about marks on face, chest, wrists.
Father stepped closer, put himself between me and Jonah, back to guests now. He spoke low only to me.
"You're not alone," he said. "But not here."
I felt truth of it. Ballroom periphery was Jonah's border. Crowd was wall, not witness.
I crossed arms over chest again, same position as on floor, but standing now. I made choice: stop asking guests for rescue. They had chosen silence.
May you like
Jonah thought silence meant win. I felt shift — clarity instead of collapse.
I stepped away from women, toward father, away from Jonah's side. Guests watched but didn't follow.
