Chloe sat tightly beside me. She was hiding nervously beneath a wide-brimmed straw hat, wearing oversized sunglasses despite being indoors. She held a sleeping Lily tightly against her chest, draped under a light, breathable nursing cover to shield her from the prying eyes of the town.
Directly in the front row, less than twenty feet away in the roped-off VIP section, sat Eleanor and Richard Harrington.
They looked immaculate, untouchable. Richard was checking a gold watch, while Eleanor sat with perfect, rigid posture, exuding an aura of absolute superiority. They were here, I realized with a sickening jolt, to maintain appearances. Their daughter was missing, but they would sit in the front row and smile for the cameras, pretending their perfect world was entirely intact.
The ceremony began with the usual rhythmic, mind-numbing drone of administrative names, polite, golf-clap applause, and lofty, meaningless speeches by the valedictorian about “limitless potential” and “changing the world.”
