The invitation arrived in a crisp, cream envelope, the handwriting precise and deliberate.
Anna Lewis
You are cordially invited to the London Media Gala. Cocktails begin at seven. Black tie optional.
RSVP required.
She held it in her hands for a long moment, feeling the weight of Maggie's presence even before opening it.
By the time she arrived, the ballroom was already a blur of glitter and champagne, chandeliers refracting light like shards of crystal. Waiters circulated with silver trays, servers whispering orders, photographers tucked into corners with long lenses.
Anna slipped past the entryway, her heels quiet on the marble floor, scanning for Maggie. She spotted her immediately — perched at the center of a circle of socialites and media executives, every gesture polished, every laugh calibrated.
"Maggie." Anna approached, offering a smile that was warm, yet cautious.
"Anna, darling!" Maggie rose gracefully, linking her arm through Anna's with the ease of someone who owned the room. "You made it. How divine!"
"It's impressive." Anna glanced around. "So many people."
"Not nearly enough to recognize talent when it walks past them," Maggie said smoothly. Her eyes flicked toward Anna with an almost imperceptible glint of jealousy. "Though I have to admit… I was worried you'd steal the spotlight from me last night. You and Ethan — I saw the headlines. Everyone's talking."
Anna's pulse quickened. Maggie was sharp; too sharp not to notice the undercurrent.
"It was professional," Anna said evenly.
"Of course," Maggie said, her smile thin and practiced. "But you can't deny the attention. And attention is currency in our world, darling."
They moved through the crowd together, Maggie introducing Anna to a string of journalists, producers, and publicists — names Anna recognised, names that could open doors, names that could define her career.
"You see?" Maggie whispered as they paused near a champagne table. "This is why we cultivate networks. Connections are everything. And you, Anna, are about to become indispensable."
Anna nodded, trying to keep her excitement in check. The thought of career elevation thrilled her, but Maggie's subtle envy — her watchful, calculating gaze — made Anna wary.
"And Ethan?" Anna asked quietly, keeping her voice low.
Maggie's lips curved into a knowing smile. "He'll be here. Naturally. One cannot resist observing excellence firsthand."
Hours passed in a blur of handshakes, polite laughter, and the constant hum of networking. Anna moved carefully through the throng, absorbing every conversation, measuring every smile, noting which introductions felt opportunistic and which felt sincere.
By nine o'clock, she was grateful for a brief reprieve. Maggie had vanished somewhere in the crowd, leaving Anna alone near the bar, surveying the room.
Then she saw him.
Ethan Garrison.
He had arrived silently, his presence cutting through the crowd like a prism. Even from a distance, she felt it — the magnetic pull, subtle yet undeniable. He was speaking to a small group, casual yet commanding, he laughed once before glancing in her direction.
Anna's stomach twisted in a way she hadn't anticipated. Professional restraint wavered. She reminded herself: This is just an event. Keep your composure.
Ethan's eyes met hers across the room. The seconds stretched, long and deliberate, charged with the same unspoken tension from their previous encounter. She took a slow breath and smiled politely.
He excused himself from the group and moved toward her, his gait calm, precise, almost deliberate in the way that made it impossible to look away.
"Anna," he said quietly, voice low and steady, just above a murmur. "You look… resplendent."
"Thank you, Ethan." Her voice was controlled, but her pulse betrayed her.
"Busy night?" he asked, nodding toward the crowd.
"Extremely."
He glanced around, then leaned slightly closer. "You handle it well."
Anna felt heat rise to her cheeks, a pulse of something she hadn't yet named. "I've had practice," she said, keeping her tone light.
The conversation flowed effortlessly, both professional and tantalizingly personal, as they discussed the industry, upcoming projects and mutual contacts. Every glance, every subtle movement, carried an undercurrent of something magnetic — a tension neither fully acknowledged but both acutely aware of.
At one point, Maggie reappeared, gliding toward them with a glass of champagne. Her eyes flicked to Ethan briefly, then back to Anna, calculating.
"Anna," she said smoothly, "there's someone I want you to meet." She led Anna to a group of producers and editors, all of whom were eager to shake her hand, each introduction a small key into a bigger door.
Ethan watched silently, a faint smile curving his mouth as Anna navigated the networking with precise grace. Maggie noticed the attention, the subtle shift in the air between Anna and Ethan and her smile tightened imperceptibly.
"You're making friends fast," Maggie whispered later, pulling Anna slightly aside. "And that's excellent — truly. But remember, every connection has its price. Choose carefully."
"I understand," Anna said cautiously.
Maggie's gaze lingered, sharp and assessing. "I only cultivate people who can benefit me… and perhaps, on rare occasions, those I deem promising enough to protect. You're on the edge of both categories, Anna. Don't forget it."
Anna nodded, the warning sinking in even as excitement fluttered in her chest.
The evening drew toward midnight. Anna found a quiet corner, a rare moment to breathe. Ethan returned to her side, unconsciously closing the distance between them.
"Anyone left you haven't spoken to?" he asked softly, studying her.
"Networking," she replied, though her tone carried more weight than the word deserved.
He smiled faintly, acknowledging the balance she maintained — the public, professional Anna, ever composed, ever measured. Yet there was a flicker of curiosity in his eyes, something that suggested he wanted to see beyond it.
"I like seeing you in motion," he said quietly. "It suits you."
She laughed softly, a nervous, light sound. "You have a talent for compliments."
"With you," he countered, "they're facts."
The brief contact of hands — accidental, casual — sent a familiar heat up her arm. She pulled back subtly, though the pulse of tension remained.
They spoke a few more minutes, exchanging notes on potential interviews, shared contacts, and insights into the industry. All the while, Anna was aware of Maggie lingering nearby, a shadow of possessiveness she couldn't ignore. Maggie was smiling, polite, but Anna felt the subtle heat of envy in every gesture.
When it was finally time to leave, Anna said goodbye to both, thanking Maggie for the introductions and wishing them both a goodnight. Ethan's eyes held her gaze a moment longer than propriety allowed.
Outside, the night air was crisp. Anna inhaled deeply, letting the sounds of the city wash over her. The exhilaration of the evening collided with the quiet dread at what Maggie's influence might demand — the price of opportunity, the potential chaos in her private life.
Home was calm. Will and the boys were asleep, the house dark except for the soft glow of a nightlight in Ben's room. She slipped inside, careful not to wake anyone, and sank into bed beside Will.
He murmured her name, a contented sound and she pressed her hand to his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of life she loved in her own way.
Yet part of her mind lingered on the gala — Maggie's calculating smile, Ethan's gaze, the unspoken tension that refused to dissipate.
Anna closed her eyes, willing herself to rest. But she knew, with an uneasy certainty, that the next chapter of her life — career, personal, emotional — was already taking shape. And that Maggie Montgomery, smiling in her perfection, would be there at every turn.