Eleanor was holding a tall glass of bright orange juice, trying to carefully weave her way through the dense cluster of tailored tuxedos and sprawling dresses. She felt profoundly out of place, her shoulders slightly hunched as she attempted to make herself as small and invisible as possible.

The disaster occurred in a fraction of a second.

The crowd shifted unexpectedly, pushing Eleanor slightly off balance. Her foot caught the edge of a thick Persian rug just as Victoria abruptly turned around to survey the room. The collision was inevitable. The rim of the glass struck the shoulder of the crimson gown, and a thick, vibrant wave of orange juice splashed directly onto Victoria’s chest. The stark contrast of the bright amber liquid soaking into the pristine red silk was visually jarring. The glass slipped from Eleanor’s trembling fingers, shattering against the white marble floor with a sharp, violent crash that silenced the surrounding guests.

For a moment, time seemed to freeze in the ballroom. Victoria stood completely rigid, her mouth falling open as she stared down at the massive, dripping stain ruining the front of her designer dress. The sticky juice dripped slowly onto the polished floor. When she finally raised her head, her dark eyes were wide, filled with a blinding, irrational fury.