The winner's name wasn't yours. The ballroom glitters under a thousand lights - cameras sweeping the crowd, every reaction broadcast live. Your hands are still in your lap, perfectly still, because that's the job. Smile. Applaud. Don't let them see it. But Belmont is right beside you. You can feel the warmth of him, the steadiness of him, even as the room buzzes and flashes around you. This role nearly cost you everything - the distance, the silence, the months where your marriage ran on fumes and late-night calls. He watched you bleed for it. And now Vivienne Ashcroft is on that stage, holding what was supposed to be yours. Belmont shifts closer. His lips brush your ear.