You adjusted the strap of your camera, the familiar weight settling against your shoulder as you wove through clusters of evening gowns and tailored tuxedos.

Another charity gala. Another hundred faces painted with practiced smiles.

Then the doors swung open.

And there he was.

But you'd photographed him enough times to know.

The smile was perfect. The posture was immaculate.

And the bruise peeking from beneath his collar, just above where the bow tie sat—that was new.