The ballroom glittered like something out of a movie.
Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, reflecting light across polished marble floors while waiters moved silently between tables carrying trays of champagne. It was my husband Daniel’s biggest charity gala of the year, an event he loved because it placed him exactly where he wanted to be—at the center of wealth, cameras, and admiration.
I stood near the edge of the room, one hand resting gently on my stomach. At six months pregnant, even standing for long periods made my back ache, but Daniel had insisted I attend.
