The rest of the evening passed in a blur. Cake was cut, pictures were taken, gifts were opened. Anya smiled until her face ached, and made plans with Kiara to meet for coffee. When guests finally began departing near midnight, she felt hollowed out, a performance of herself.

She’d exchanged numbers with Kiara again. The actress had hugged her goodbye, whispered that she was sorry they’d lost touch, promised they’d reconnect properly. And Anya had hugged her back, already cataloging what she’d need to make her father’s revenge possible—and her own desire a reality.