Amara stood at the entrance, her father beside her. She wore a formal navy-blue dress, elegant and simple, with her hair swept into an intricate updo. Dark glasses shielded her eyes, and her white cane rested in her hand.
"Quite the production," James Marshall commented, his voice low. "You're sure about this?"
"Completely," Amara replied. "Yasmin and Sammy are already inside."
"And you're ready for whatever Chase has planned?"
A small smile curved Amara's lips. "More than he is."
Principal Weston approached, nervousness evident in his hurried steps. "Ms. James, Mr. Marshall, so pleased you could attend." His voice carried forced cheerfulness. "We have a special table reserved for you near the front."
"How thoughtful," Amara said, allowing herself to be guided to the designated table.
As they moved through the crowd, hushed conversations followed in their wake. The events of the past weeks had made Amara something of a school celebrity, opinions divided between those who admired her resilience and those who believed Chase's version of events.
Yasmin joined them at the table, leaning close to whisper: "Chase looks way too smug. He's been checking the media setup all evening."
"Any sign of Sammy?" Amara asked.
"Not yet. He said he needed to finalize some technical details."
Across the room, Chase stood with his parents, the picture of privileged perfection in his tailored tuxedo. His father, Richard Williams, commanded attention from the board members surrounding him, while his mother, Elizabeth, draped in diamonds, surveyed the room with practiced disinterest.
"She actually showed up," Chase muttered, eyes fixed on Amara.
"Of course she did," his father replied smoothly. "Our invitation was quite specific. Missing it would have seemed suspicious."
"Everything's ready?" Chase asked.