Lily stood.
The ballroom erupted. Women gasped. Men dropped their champagne flutes, the crystal shattering loudly against the marble. Her parents fell to their knees, weeping in pure disbelief.
But the barefoot boy didn’t look at the crowd. His eyes stayed locked on Lily.
“Follow my lead,” he whispered.
He stepped back, pulling her into a flawless waltz. Lily didn’t just walk—she floated. She glided across the floor, her pink dress spinning. The wealthy guests backed away, forming a massive circle, entirely captivated by the impossible miracle unfolding before them.
Every single eye in the room was on Lily.
Which meant no one was watching the shadows.
As the boy spun her outward, his gentle, sweet smile instantly vanished. His expression turned ice-cold and strictly professional.
He pulled her close. “Keep smiling, kid.”
Lily frowned, her heart pounding. “Who are you?”
“The distraction.”
Before Lily could process the words, the boy tapped his bare heel against the floor twice.
*Click. Click.*
Every crystal chandelier in the ballroom instantly died.
The room plunged into pitch blackness. Awe turned to terrified screams in a heartbeat. Panic erupted. The sound of heavy, tactical boots hit the marble. Zips. Snips. Frantic gasps.
For exactly thirty seconds, absolute madness reigned.
Then, the emergency lights flickered on, bathing the room in a harsh red glow.
Lily was still standing in the center of the floor.
But the boy was gone.
And so was every piece of jewelry in the room.
The diamond tiaras, the gold watches, the emerald necklaces—stripped from the stunned guests with phantom speed.
Lily looked down. The white rose in her hand was fake. It was crafted from tightly folded paper.
She carefully unrolled the petals. Scrawled inside was a single line of black ink:
*Enjoy the legs.*