They reached the ice swan. It was objectively absurd, a testament to pointless expenditure. "It's crying," Hazel noted, pointing to a steady drip of water falling from the swan's beak into the basin. "It's just melting, bug," Nathaniel said softly. "Ice doesn't last long when it's surrounded by all this hot air. " "Excuse me. " The voice cut through the ambient noise like a scalpel.
It was cold, precise, and entirely devoid of warmth. Nathaniel turned. Veronica Hale stood a few feet away. She was tall, dressed in a backless emerald gown that moved like liquid glass when she shifted her weight. Her hair was pulled back into a severe, flawless knot.
She held a glass of mineral water, the lime wedge resting perfectly on the rim. Flanking her were two men in tailored suits, hovering like anxious remoras around a great white shark. "You're blocking the pathway to the VIP section. " Veronica said. She didn't look at Nathaniel. She looked through him.
Nathaniel glanced around. They were standing near a velvet rope, but there was easily 10 ft of space on either side of them. He looked back at Veronica. "My apologies. " Nathaniel said, his voice even. "We were just admiring the sculpture.
We'll step aside. " He went to guide Hazel away, but the little girl had just noticed a tray of vibrant red strawberry tarts on a nearby table. Entranced, she took a step forward, slipping right under the velvet rope. "Hazel, no! " Nathaniel said, reaching for her. But it was too late. Hazel bumped into the side of the table.
The table wobbled. A single strawberry tart slid off its silver platter and fell, landing with a soft, wet thud directly on the toe of Veronica Hale's pristine, white silk heel. Silence dropped over their immediate circle. The clinking of glasses seemed to stop. The two sycophants standing behind Veronica froze, their eyes darting from the ruined shoe to Hazel, who immediately shrank back, her lower lip trembling.
"I'm sorry. " Hazel whispered, looking up at the towering woman in the green dress. Veronica stared at the crushed fruit on her shoe. A slow, dark red stain was spreading across the silk. When she finally raised her head, her eyes were completely dead. Veronica didn't shout.
Shouting was for people who didn't have power. She just stepped forward. Her ruined shoe leaving a faint sticky print on the polished marble floor. "Whose child is this? " she asked. The question was directed at the room in general as if Hazel were a stray dog that had wandered through an open kitchen door.
Nathaniel stepped quickly between Veronica and his daughter. He pushed Hazel slightly behind his leg shielding her from the woman's gaze. The plastic dinosaur in his pocket dug into his thigh. "She's mine. " Nathaniel said. He kept his voice steady, grounded.
It was an accident. "I'll gladly pay for the dry cleaning or the replacement of the shoes. Just send the bill. " Veronica finally looked at him. Her eyes scanned his rented lapels, the slight scuff on his dress shoes, the way his hair refused to lay perfectly flat. Her expression shifted from cold annoyance to utter disgust.
"Pay for them? " Veronica let out a short hollow laugh. She looked over her shoulder at her assistants who offered nervous synchronized chuckles. "Do you have any idea how much these cost, you arrogant little man? They are custom. They don't have a price tag you can just swipe a credit card for.