Her stern face changed. Just a fraction. A small softening of the jaw. It was enough.

“Mara Ashford?” she asked, her voice cutting through the din.

I nodded once, wincing.

Reeves touched the earpiece coiled in her ear. “Command, this is Reeves. Immediate medical to the main ballroom. Pregnant female, visible facial trauma, victim of assault.

Expedite EMTs.”

Daniel, his face a mottled red, barked, “She is my wife! She tripped! This is a private domestic matter, you have no jurisdiction—”