CHAPTER 3: The Word That Froze the Room

No one moved.
The word mother traveled farther than any shout could have.
It crossed the champagne tables. It reached the orchestra. It landed at the foot of the grand staircase where Richard Veyron stood with two board members and a frozen expression he was too old to hide quickly.
Celeste gave a short laugh.
It was the laugh of a woman trying to turn panic into etiquette.
"Do not be ridiculous," she said. "Margaret was your nanny. You were attached to her as a child. It was sweet, but this is hardly the place for childish sentiment."
Julian looked at her.
The ballroom had seen him smile in magazine photographs. It had seen him bored, polished, harmless.
It had never seen him like this.
"I said mother," he replied.
Margaret closed her eyes as if the word hurt and healed at the same time.
Richard stepped forward. "Julian, come with me."
Julian did not turn around.
"No, Father. Tonight everyone stays where they are."