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HUNDRED AND EIGHT

Flawless was the only word that came to Veil as she watched Sophia strut in, her head high and her poise immaculate. She commanded the room, and Sophia was fully aware of that. She used the power it gave her, wielding it through the guests.

Her body was covered in a white dress—she was the only person in a white evening dress in the room. The dress cascaded like water from a fountain to the ground, the beads sewn into the bodice sparkling as she walked up through the aisle. Her cinched waist was draped with softer fabric, almost having a seductive look mixed with sophistication and elegance.

The light caught deliciously in the dress, and it seemed to pull every single person in the room. All eyes were on Sophia and the plunging neckline of her dress. It seemed to sway along with her as she moved, taking the guests with her.

Veil suddenly felt so conscious. She returned her gaze to the table, surprised to meet Anders watching her. She would have sworn that he would have been as lost as
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