Page 4 of Porcelain Lies

My stomach clenches. Through the door, I hear the murmur of voices in the foyer, the clink of glasses, elegant laughter. Children’s laughter, too — the young patients and their families arriving full of hope for tonight’s fundraiser.

I close my eyes, steadying myself against the counter. Those families scraped together money for gala tickets, believing in our promise to fund new treatment research. They don’t care about my imploding personal life.

“I’ll be right out.” My voice comes out stronger than I feel. I reapply my lipstick with practiced precision, dust powder overthe blotchy patches on my cheeks. I pull in a deep, steadying breath. I’ve dealt with upheaval before. I can do it again now.

You can do this…

The woman in the mirror transforms — shoulders back, chin lifted, professional mask firmly in place. Only my eyes give me away, but in the dimmed ballroom lighting, no one will notice.

I smooth my blazer and open the door. Maria hovers outside, clipboard clutched to her chest.

“The Hendersons are asking about Gianni’s speech,” she says carefully.

“Tell them there’s been a change in the program.” I stride toward the growing crowd. “I’ll make the keynote address myself.”

The crystal champagne flute trembles in my hand as I work my way through the crowd. Donors in designer suits and cocktail dresses mill about, their faces blurring together as I nod and smile. My chest feels hollow, each breath a conscious effort.

“Wonderful turnout,” Mrs. Henderson beams, touching my arm. “And such a beautiful venue.”

“Thank you for coming.” I smile. “The children’s ward will benefit greatly from your support.”

A small figure in a wheelchair catches my eye — Sophie, one of our young patients, her head wrapped in a bright purple scarf. She waves, and something inside me shifts. These kids don’t need to see my pain. They face enough of their own.

I crouch beside her wheelchair. “That’s a beautiful scarf. Purple’s my favorite color too.”

“Mom says I can watch the whole program if I feel strong enough.” Her eyes sparkle with excitement.

“Then we better make it worth staying up for, right?”

Maria appears at my elbow with the revised program. I scan the changes, crossing out Gianni’s name with perhaps more force than necessary. The pen tears through the paper.

“The silent auction items are ready,” Maria whispers. “But the projector’s still—”

“I’ll handle it.” I set my jaw. “Technical difficulties won’t stop us from helping these amazing kids.”

I keep my chin high as I make my way to the tech booth. Inside, my heart may be shattered, but outside I’m still Stella Fermont, event coordinator extraordinaire. The show must go on.

I grab the microphone, testing it quickly. In ten minutes, I’ll welcome these guests. I’ll tell them about our brave patients. I’ll inspire them to open their hearts — and their checkbooks.

And not one of them will know that my own world has just imploded.

Chapter Two

Aleksei

The whir of servos fills the room as Bobik’s new chair responds to his command.

“Papa, look!” His eyes light up as the chair smoothly rotates, following his voice pattern. “It understood me perfectly.”

I lean against the wall, arms crossed, watching him navigate the space between his desk and bed. Pride swells in my chest, but I keep my expression neutral. The technology cost millions to develop, but seeing him move independently makes every Ruble worth it.

“Try the gesture controls.” I tap the armrest panel. “Show me what you’ve learned.”

Bobik’s thin fingers dance over the surface. The chair responds instantly, gliding forward, then executing a precise turn. His dark hair falls across his forehead as he concentrates, reminding me so much of myself at his age.

Except I could walk.

“I’ve been practicing the programming interface too.” He guides the chair to his computer setup. “Did you know we can modify the AI response patterns? I’ve been studying neural networks and—” He launches into an explanation that leaves me lost after the first sentence.

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