She crossed the marble floor the moment she saw he was alone, with elegance carved in stone head high, lips painted crimson, hips swaying with deliberate grace. The crowd parted for her as if they still remembered what it meant to be near her.
"Dominic."
Her voice was soft, sultry dipped in nostalgia and venom.
He didn't stop.
He didn't even look at her.
Instead, Dominic kept walking toward the bar, one hand in his pocket, the other briefly adjusting his cufflink as if her presence was no more than background noise.
Celeste's smile faltered just slightly.
She caught up to him, slipping beside him like smoke.
"Are You avoiding me "
"No," Dominic replied coolly, lifting a glass of whiskey. "I've just been prioritizing."
"Hmm," she chuckled darkly, leaning closer. "And what exactly outranks me in priority now?"
He finally looked at her.
A slow, hard stare that drained the heat from her face.
"Plenty."
Celeste's jaw clenched — but she recovered fast.
"She's a pretty little thing. Fragile-looking. That's your type now?"
Dominic didn't answer. He took a sip of his drink, eyes flicking briefly toward Liana, who was still being ushered from person to person by his sister and mother.
Celeste followed his gaze and smiled again this time colder.
"She doesn't belong in your world, Dominic. But I do."
"You don't belong anywhere near me," he said, his voice lowanddangerous. "And you'd do well to remember that."
That stung.
She laughed anyway.
"We'll see."
He walked away.
Left her standing there, alone in her designer dress, surrounded by admirers she didn't want because the only one she wanted had walked away without hesitation.
I slipped out onto the balcony, away from the music, away from the cameras, away from him.
My heels clicked softly against the marble, then stopped.
I leaned on the railing, breathing in the cool night air, my hands trembling as they gripped the edge. The mask i'd been wearing all night — that fake smile, that perfect act — cracked in the silence.
"Liana?"
My breath caught.
I turned slowly and for a moment, my heart forgot how to beat.
Micah.
In a waiter's suit. Standing in the shadows. Eyes wide, voice barely a whisper.
"Is it really you?"
I nodded, and tears immediately welled in my eyes.
He stepped closer, cautiously, as if she might disappear again.
"Where have you been? I thought something horrible happened."
I let out a shaky laugh. "Something did happen."
His jaw clenched. "Is he hurting you?"
I looked away.
That was answer enough.
"I'm getting you out of here," he said, voice fierce now. "I don't care who he is or what he's threatened you with. I'll—"
"Micah, stop." my voice cracked. "You'll only make it worse."
"Worse? You're being paraded like some some possession! Do you even know what he is?"
"I know exactly what he is," i snapped quietly. "But he has power, Micah. Real power. You try anything reckless and you'll disappear and I won't survive that."
Micah stared at her, pained. "So what? You're just going to let him own you?"
"He bought me, Micah." my voice broke. "And the worst part is… I don't even know if I have the strength to keep fighting."
Silence stretched between them.
He stepped closer, gently taking her hand.
"You're stronger than you think."
I squeezed his hand. Desperate. Terrified.
"Please don't do anything stupid."
"You don't belong in his world."
"I know," i whispered. "But I'm in it now."
"Go," i said quickly. "If he sees us—"
"I'm not leaving you."
"Micah, please."
Our fingers slipped apart as he backed into the shadows again, one last glance filled with everything they couldn't say.
And then he was gone.
I turned back toward the stars, tears spilling down my cheeks the only part of myself still free.
Just minutes ago, she had been by his side — smiling on command, nodding when she was told to, pretending like she belonged in his world.
Now, she was gone.
He scanned the room once more, slower this time. No sign of her.
His jaw clenched.
"Where is she?" he muttered.
Julian, standing nearby with a drink in hand, raised an eyebrow. "You lost your little star already?"
Dominic didn't respond. Instead, he turned and walked.
Through the ballroom, past the curious glances and polite nods, to the hallway — silent, darker.
Then he heard it.
Footsteps.
Too soft. Too urgent.
By the time he reached the corner near the balcony entrance, he saw her Liana, alone, wiping her eyes with shaking fingers.
His eyes narrowed.
She wasn't just overwhelmed. She was emotional.
Too emotional.
Someone spoke to her.
" Who did you speak to?"
No one' I said and walked past him.