Zara stood before the full-length mirror in her room, trying to steady her breath. The gown Eleanor had gifted her clung perfectly to her frame a deep emerald satin that shimmered beneath the chandelier light. But she felt exposed, like prey about to be thrown into a den of lions.
Tonight's gala was Damien's official reappearance in high society after months of absence. The media was watching. So were his enemies.
"You look... stunning," Damien's voice broke her thoughts.
Zara turned. He leaned against the doorway in a sleek black tuxedo, his eyes tracing her form not with lust, but with a kind of awe.
"You clean up well yourself," she said with a nervous smile.
He stepped closer, offering his arm. "Ready?"
"No," she whispered. But she took his arm anyway.
The ballroom of the Argent Tower overflowed with elegance. Chandeliers bathed the space in golden light, while live violins hummed beneath the murmur of designer heels and clinking glasses.
All eyes turned as Damien walked in with Zara by his side.
Zara straightened her posture. She could feel their judgment, their confusion. Whispers followed them.
"Who is she?"
"She's not from any known family."
"Gold digger?"
"She must have something Damien wants."
She swallowed hard.
At the bar, a woman in a silver gown turned, her icy-blue eyes locking onto them. Celine.
"Be careful," Damien muttered under his breath.
Celine approached with calculated grace. "Damien, you didn't tell me you were bringing someone new."
Zara forced a smile. "I'm Zara."
Celine's lips curled. "Ah. The mysterious plus-one." She turned to Damien, ignoring Zara completely. "Care to dance, for old times' sake?"
Damien's arm tightened around Zara's. "No. I'm here with someone."
Zara's heart fluttered, unsure if it was relief or surprise. Celine's expression soured for a split second before morphing back into a smile.
"Well, enjoy your evening," she said, her tone laced with poison.
As she disappeared into the crowd, Zara exhaled. "She doesn't like me."
"She doesn't like anyone she can't control."
They made rounds, greeting board members, associates, distant relatives. But everywhere they went, Zara felt like an outsider.
When Damien excused himself to speak to an investor, Zara wandered toward the terrace, craving air.
She wasn't alone.
Celine appeared beside her, sipping wine, her eyes on the city lights. "You think you know him?"
Zara said nothing.
"He hides things," Celine continued. "Secrets. Sickness. Enemies."
Zara's eyes narrowed. "What are you trying to say?"
"That he's dying," Celine said, sipping again. "You're just a distraction, a band-aid. But when the real storm hits, you won't survive."
Zara's breath caught. "What do you mean?"
Celine stepped closer. "You'll see soon enough."
And with that, she disappeared again into the shadows.
Zara stood frozen, her heart pounding.
Damien was hiding something.
And she needed to find out what.