Audie pushed her weight against the heavy brass handles of the Waldorf Astoria ballroom doors.
The thick wood gave way, releasing a wave of warm air thick with the scent of expensive perfume and roasted meats.
She slipped inside, instantly handing her damp trench coat to a waiting attendant at the cloakroom.
She smoothed her hands down the front of her tailored pencil skirt, making sure her professional attire wasn't too wrinkled from the subway ride.
Her eyes scanned the sprawling, opulent hall.
It was a sea of Ivy League elites, men in sharp tuxedos and women in flowing gowns, all mingling under the golden glow of the chandeliers.
She was looking for Ryder.
A waiter in a crisp white shirt walked past holding a silver tray.
Audie reached out and took a flute of champagne, the chilled crystal cooling her warm fingertips.
She pulled her phone from her clutch and checked the screen.
The text from Ryder, received exactly ten minutes ago, stared back at her: Waiting for you inside.
A sudden eruption of loud, enthusiastic applause drew her attention toward the center of the room.
Directly beneath the largest crystal chandelier, a crowd had formed.
Through a gap in the tailored shoulders of the guests, Audie spotted the familiar broad back of Ryder's custom navy blue suit.
The corners of her mouth lifted into a genuine smile.
She took a step forward, ready to tap his shoulder and surprise him for their three-year anniversary.
Then, a woman in a stunning, custom Chanel gown stepped into view and intimately looped her arm through Ryder's.
Audie's heels stopped dead on the marble floor.
The sharp clack of her stilettos was swallowed by the chatter of the room.
The woman turned her profile slightly, laughing at something Ryder said.
It was Tatum.
Her older sister. The golden child of the Bell family.
Audie's chest tightened so violently it felt like her ribs were collapsing inward.
Her fingers clamped around the stem of the champagne flute.
The skin over her knuckles stretched taut and turned a stark, bloodless white.
She dragged in a sharp breath, the air burning her throat.
It's just family networking, she told herself. Just standard Manhattan social politics.
But then Ryder tilted his head down.
He pressed his lips to Tatum's forehead in a slow, lingering kiss that radiated absolute devotion.
The air vanished from Audie's lungs.
Her brain short-circuited, flashing through a hundred tiny, easily explained absences over the last three months.
She pressed her thumb hard against her opposite wrist, grinding the bone to stop her hands from shaking.
She forced her legs to move, stepping closer to the center of the crowd.
The alumni surrounding them raised their glasses, their voices blending into a chorus of congratulations on the perfect union of two powerful families.
Audie stopped less than three feet away from them.
Tatum caught movement in her peripheral vision and turned.
When her eyes landed on Audie, a slow, malicious smile spread across her perfectly painted lips.
Tatum deliberately lifted her left hand, resting it flat against Ryder's chest.
The massive diamond on her ring finger caught the light of the chandelier, refracting a blinding glare straight into Audie's eyes.
Ryder followed Tatum's gaze.
He turned his head and crashed right into Audie's dead, ice-cold stare.
The charming smile dropped from Ryder's face instantly.
Raw panic flared in his eyes.
His body jerked, an automatic reflex to pull his arm away from Tatum's grip.
But Tatum's manicured fingers dug into his bicep, holding him in place.
"Everyone," Tatum announced, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness. "Look who made it. My little sister, Audie."
The surrounding guests turned in unison.
Dozens of eyes raked over Audie's plain office wear, making her feel entirely out of place in the sea of haute couture.
Whispers immediately broke out.
She heard the words adopted, charity case, and Bell family floating through the tense air.
Ryder swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing.
"Audie," he stammered, taking a half-step forward. "I..."
Audie didn't shed a single tear.
She lifted the champagne flute to her lips and downed the alcohol in one long, burning swallow.
She slammed the empty crystal glass down onto a nearby cocktail table.
The sharp clink of glass hitting metal cut through the whispers.
She stared at the two of them, her stomach churning with pure bile.
"Disgusting," she said.
She turned on her heel and walked toward the heavy brass doors.