Chloe raised an eyebrow. "Work?" She laughed lightly, then looked at Angela's. "He's really slumming it this time."
Ny lips parted slightly, but said nothing.
Angela leaned in closer, her perfume suffocating. "Tell me the truth, dear… Are you just a sweet little distraction? Or…" — she paused, her eyes glittering with cruelty — "…just a slut who got lucky enough to crawl into Dominic's bed?"
The words hit like a slap. Even as the words "just a slut who made it through" echoed in my ears, I stood my ground — shoulders straight, eyes glassy, dignity intact. But inside, my heart screamed. I had been through humiliation before, but this — this was different. This was a public trial in front of people with power, money, and teeth hidden behind diamonds.
Chloe sipped her champagne with a smirk, like she'd just flicked a fly off her wrist.
My throat tightened. My vision blurred, but i held my head high.
"You don't know me," i said, barely above a whisper.
Chloe tilted her head mockingly. "Oh, honey. I don't need to know you. I've seen your type before. Pretty enough to catch his attention… but disposable."
Just then, a voice cut through the air like a blade.
His entrance was silent but seismic.
He came to stand beside me— tall, cold, commanding. The music dimmed in her ears. All i heard was the harsh thud of my own heart.
His arm slid around my waist, fingers pressing slightly at my side, not gently — more like a warning.
"Is there a problem here?"
He appeared from behind, expression unreadable, but eyes sharp with warning.
Both women turned quickly, like schoolgirls caught misbehaving.
"We were just chatting," Angela purred. "Getting to know your… fiancée."
"You were just disrespecting her," he cut in, eyes gleaming. "In my name. That's not just rude, Angela. That's stupid."
His gaze shifted to Chloe, who straightened up, visibly shaken beneath her practiced calm.
"And you, Chloe," he added, "should know by now that when I let something into my life — I own it. No one touches what's mine. Not even with words."
My spine stiffened at that.
What's mine.
Not who, but what.
Still, part of me — the fragile, broken part — felt something strange flutter inside. Not safety. Not love.
But protection wrapped in thorns.
Chloe gave a tight smile. "Of course, Dominic. We were out of line."
Angela offered an equally rehearsed nod. "Won't happen again."
Then he turned slightly toward me. His hand on my lower back didn't leave. Instead, it steadied her like a leash hidden as support.
"…I expect you to remember exactly who you belong to."
I didn't reply.
I just stared straight ahead, my face calm while my heart pounded.
Micah stood stiffly in his waiter's uniform, tray balanced, smile pinned tight. But his eyes weren't on the crystal glasses or the socialites.
They were on her.
Liana.
Two sharply dressed women had her cornered — one he vaguely recognized as Chloe, Dominic Voss's ex, the other a stern-faced older woman. Their smiles were sharp. Their words, from what he could tell, were venom disguised as curiosity.
He edged closer, pretending to adjust a table setting nearby.
Then he heard it.
"Are you just a slut that made it through his walls?"
Micah's grip on the tray tightened. A glass shifted, nearly tipping over.
He wanted to go to her. To step between them, to drag her away from this glittering cage.
But he couldn't. Not now. Not yet.
Then he appeared — Dominic Voss himself, cutting through the room like a storm in a tailored suit.
Micah watched every movement.
The way he stood beside her like a guard. The possessive hand. The cold warning in his voice.
"No one touches what's mine. Not even with words."
Micah's stomach turned.
Mine.
That was the word that confirmed it all.
She wasn't here willingly. She was trapped. Pretty, dressed up, and owned.
just for a second, across the chandeliers and candlelight — Micah saw the truth.
She was breaking.
And he couldn't stand it anymore.
I'm getting you out of there, Liana.