Much to my astonishment—and mild relief—the New Year's Party concluded without the catastrophic drama that had seemed inevitable. I had braced myself for chaos, particularly where Cecilia was concerned, but it appeared that the presence of her father had kept her schemes safely under wraps. Perhaps even Cecilia Slatemark had her limits.
As the evening wound down and the opulence of the Creighton estate began to quiet, the guests, one by one, began preparing to leave. The parents, titans of their respective realms, made their final rounds, exchanging measured pleasantries and calculated farewells that seemed more like diplomatic negotiations than casual goodbyes.
