Chapter 8 She's a crimina

The ballroom of the Pierre Hotel was a kaleidoscope of diamonds, silk, and power. The chandeliers dripped light onto the elite of Manhattan.

Alice walked in alone.

Her black dress was a void in the sea of pastels and sequins. Heads turned. The whispers started immediately, rippling through the room like a wave.

"Is that her?"

"The felon?"

"She looks... intense."

"I heard she stole millions."

Alice kept her chin high. She walked to a corner near a pillar and took a glass of champagne from a passing waiter. She didn't drink it. She just held it as a prop.

A few minutes later, the double doors swung open. Estelle and Benito entered.

Flashes erupted. It was blinding. Estelle had changed into backup shoes and was beaming, clutching Benito's arm. They looked like royalty.

Benito scanned the room. His eyes landed on Alice in the corner. He narrowed them, a silent warning: Stay there.

Alice didn't move.

Estelle worked the room, accepting compliments, playing the role of the blushing bride-to-be perfectly. Then, she steered Benito toward Alice.

She grabbed two glasses of red wine from a tray.

"Alice!" she called out, her voice pitching to carry over the crowd. "You look so... somber. You're all alone over here."

Estelle walked up to Alice, extending a glass of wine. "Here. Let's toast. To your freedom."

Alice looked at the wine. Red. Dark.

"I don't drink," she said.

Estelle stepped closer. She leaned in to hug Alice, putting her mouth right next to her ear.

"You know," she whispered, her voice venomous, "Benny told me you were like a dead fish in bed. He wonders if the guards in prison taught you any new tricks."

Alice's blood boiled. The glass in her hand shook.

Estelle pulled back, smiling sweetly. Then, she deliberately tripped over her own feet.

She threw her hands up. The red wine in her glass launched forward, splashing all over the front of her pristine white gown.

"Ahhh!" Estelle screamed. She fell to the floor in a heap of silk.

The music stopped. The room gasped.

"Alice!" Estelle sobbed, pointing a trembling finger at her. "Why did you push me?"

Alice stood there, frozen. Her champagne glass was still full. She hadn't touched Estelle.

Benito was at Estelle's side in a second. He glared up at Alice, his face twisted in rage. "Alice! Are you insane? You attacked her!"

"I didn't touch her," Alice said, her voice calm despite the adrenaline surging through her.

"I saw it!" A girl in a pink dress-one of Estelle's friends-stepped forward. "She shoved her! She's violent! She's a criminal!"

The word hung in the air. Criminal.

Cameras flashed rapidly, capturing Estelle on the floor, stained red like a victim, and Alice standing over her in black, looking like the villain.

"Get her out of here!" Benito shouted at security. "She's dangerous!"

Alice looked around the room. Disgust. Fear. Judgment.

She looked at Benito. He was enjoying this. He was the hero protecting his lady.

Alice laughed. It was a short, dry sound.

"You want a villain?" she asked softly. "Fine."