. CHAPTER 1 — The Champagne Tower
The champagne tower stood in the center of the rooftop like a golden monument to people who had never been told no.
Eight levels of crystal coupes caught the city lights, each glass trembling faintly in the summer wind. Beneath it, New York glowed like a field of diamonds. Cameras flashed. Musicians played soft jazz. Women in silk gowns laughed with men whose watches cost more than apartments.
Amelia Ross moved carefully through them in a black server’s uniform, carrying an empty tray against her ribs. She kept her eyes lowered, not because she was weak, but because people like this enjoyed mistaking eye contact for rebellion.
She had not come to the Bellmont Foundation Gala for work.
She had come because of a letter her mother left behind.
“Find the rooftop gala,” the letter said. “Show the heart necklace only when they leave you no other choice.”
Amelia touched the small pendant hidden beneath her collar. It was warm against her skin.
Then she saw the champagne tower tilt.
One glass had been placed too close to the edge. A careless elbow brushed the table. The base shifted. Without thinking, Amelia stepped forward and reached to steady it.
Her fingers barely touched the lowest glass before a sharp voice cut across the rooftop.
“Don’t you dare.”
Every conversation nearby stopped.
Vivienne Crowe, dressed in a white designer suit with diamond earrings that moved like blades, stared at Amelia as if she had just found mud on her shoe.
Amelia froze. “Ma’am, it was going to fall.”
Vivienne’s smile was cold enough to silence the music. “That tower costs more than your entire life.”
“I was trying to save it.”
“No.” Vivienne stepped closer, her champagne glass glittering in one hand. “You were trying to touch something beautiful for one second.”
A few guests laughed.
Amelia’s cheeks burned, but she did not move. “I’m sorry if it looked that way.”
Vivienne turned to the crowd with theatrical disgust. “Do you hear that? She is sorry for how it looked. Not for forgetting her place.”
Then Vivienne placed one manicured hand on the champagne tower.
For one long breath, Amelia understood what was about to happen.
“Please don’t,” she whispered.
Vivienne pushed.
The tower collapsed in a violent glittering wave. Crystal shattered across the black floor. Champagne exploded over Amelia’s uniform, soaking her sleeves, her hair, her shoes. Gasps rose from every side.
Vivienne pointed at her.
May you like
“Clean it,” she said. “On your knees.”
Amelia stood drenched beneath the city lights, one hand pressed to the necklace under her shirt, while the richest people in the room waited to see whether she would obey.
