Hades
The marble beneath our feet echoed every step like a countdown. Six hours had passed—barely enough time to prep the security detail, summon the press, and drag the Tower into damage control mode. And now, the moment had arrived.
Eve stood beside me, arms crossed as Lucinda offered her the final option: a makeup brush.
She didn't even glance at it. "No."
Lucinda blinked. "You're sure?"
Eve's jaw was set. "Yes. If I show up airbrushed and contoured while people think we've been poisoning their bloodlines, they'll assume I've been coached. Polished. Fake."
Kael's voice cut through the comms. "Cameras are rolling in the adjoining chamber. They're waiting.
But he did not need to announce it. The clamouring of the reporters buzzed like a vibration through my skin.
Lucinda hesitated. "But just a touch of concealer—"
"I want them to see my fatigue," Eve said. "The scars. The weight. I'm not here to be worshipped."
