The ballroom shimmered with crystal chandeliers, soft music, and gold-trimmed elegance.
It was Knight International's annual charity gala — and this year, the stakes were higher than ever.
Not because of the guests.Not because of the press.But because tonight, Emily Ross would officially step into the spotlight... as Alexander Knight's wife.
For the first time, without hiding.
She stood in front of the mirror backstage, dressed in a floor-length black gown that hugged her curves and exposed just enough skin to be daring. Her hair was swept back in soft waves, diamond earrings sparkling at her ears.
She didn't look like the fallen heiress of a disgraced family.
She looked like the queen of the room.
But her hands still trembled.
"You don't have to be perfect," came Alexander's voice from behind her.
She turned to find him in a tailored black tux, bow tie loosened just slightly, the image of effortless control.
"You don't get it," she said. "They're not just watching me, Alexander. They're waiting for me to fall again."
He stepped closer. "Then don't fall. Walk through them like you own the floor."
Her eyes flicked to his. "And if I stumble?"
"I'll catch you."
They entered the ballroom together — arm in arm, the picture of a power couple.
Gasps rippled. Cameras clicked. Heads turned.
Emily forced a smile, lifted her chin, and reminded herself: You are not here to prove them right. You are here to rewrite the narrative.
But not everyone was ready to let her.
As they made their way through the crowd, a familiar voice sliced through the music.
"Well, well. Look who survived the fall."
Cassandra Leigh.Alexander's ex.
She stood in a crimson gown, lips curled into a smirk. Her fingers rested on the arm of a tech billionaire she'd latched onto after leaving Alexander.
Emily didn't flinch. "Cassie. Still running your mouth, I see."
Cassandra stepped closer. "And you? Still clinging to men with power? Some things never change."
Emily opened her mouth — but Alexander stepped forward.
"Enough," he said, voice like a whip. "Emily is my wife. Speak to her like that again, and you'll be escorted out."
Cassandra blinked, shocked.
"You used to be more fun, Alex," she said.
"I used to be naïve," he replied. "Now I see clearly."
He took Emily's hand and walked away without another glance.
They stood on the balcony moments later, cool air brushing against them as the hum of the party buzzed behind the glass.
Emily stared out at the city. "Thank you. For what you said."
"I meant it."
She looked at him. "Even the wife part?"
He turned toward her, eyes intense. "Especially that."
She swallowed. "This was supposed to be fake."
Alexander stepped closer. "And yet... everything about tonight feels real."
His hand brushed hers. She didn't pull away.
"Emily," he said softly. "I don't know when it happened. But somewhere between the contract and the chaos, I stopped pretending."
Her heart thundered.
"I'm not asking you to feel the same," he continued. "I know I've made mistakes. I know I built walls. But when I look at you, I don't see strategy anymore. I see... a beginning."
Silence stretched between them — not empty, but charged.
Then Emily stepped forward, placed a hand on his chest. "Say it again."
"What?"
"That you stopped pretending."
He leaned down. "I stopped pretending."
And then he kissed her — not for the press, not for the crowd, but for himself.
For them.
Inside, a photographer caught the moment through the glass.
The shot would go viral within hours:
The Ice CEO Melts — Knight's Kiss Seen 'Round the World
But at that moment, none of that mattered.
In that kiss was the truth neither of them had dared to admit:
This marriage was never going to stay fake.