Miles away, in a lavish penthouse that towered over the city, Liv was engaged in a very different but no less grueling battle. Her adversary was George, her fiancé. And George was not an easy man to deal with.
Being a male Gorgon in a beauty-worshipping society had its perks. George was sculpted like an ancient statue, with a jawline that could cut glass and a flawless physique. But in place of hair, his head was a hissing nest of small black snakes, each with tiny ruby eyes. They were his pride and joy, and at the moment, they were all collectively hissing with irritation.
"I don't understand what the big deal is, my love," George said, his voice as oily as the serpent oil he used to polish his scales. He was admiring his reflection in a massive, gold-framed mirror. "It's just a gala. The War-Orphaned Goblin Charity Gala. You have to be there. You'll be the most beautiful one there, as always."
Liv, leaning against the window frame, watched him with a glacial expression. She wore a black silk dress that made her look like an elegant creature of the night, but her crimson eyes betrayed an inner storm. "It's not 'just a gala,' George. It's another one of your parades. Another chance to show me off like a trophy. 'Look everyone, I have the most beautiful vampire in the city. Isn't she exquisite?'"
George turned, his snakes wriggling in unison. "But you are exquisite, darling. It's a fact. Why shouldn't we celebrate it?" He moved closer, gliding across the marble floor with reptilian grace. "I've already picked out your dress. Blood-red. And a diamond necklace that will make the stars pale."
"I don't want your diamonds, George. I want a conversation. I want you to ask me how I am, what I think. I want you to stop treating me like an object you own."
George sighed, a sibilant sound that seemed to come from his entire head. "Are we doing this again? Liv, I give you everything. Luxury, wealth, social standing. What more could you possibly want?"
"Something real!" she burst out, her composure finally cracking. "Something you can't buy. I was at the Troll's Head the other night…"
"That awful place?" he interrupted dismissively. "Why do you go to those slums?"
"Because the people there are real!" she countered, her voice rising. "I saw a clumsy elf and a boisterous dwarf. The elf tried to talk to me. It was a disaster. He said something about dead bees. But you know what? For a moment, it was… honest. Pathetic, but honest. More honest than any word you've spoken to me in six months."
George stared at her, his narrow, yellow eyes hardening. The snakes on his head began to hiss louder, a chorus of threat. "Are you comparing me, George the Magnificent, to a stuttering elf who talks about insects? Perhaps you need a rest, my dear. Your mind is rambling."
That was the last straw. The condescension, the arrogance, the way he dismissed her as if she were a spoiled child.
"No," Liv said, her voice now calm, but charged with a sharp finality. "I need to leave."
She headed for the door. George stepped in front of her, blocking her path. "Don't be ridiculous. You're not going anywhere."
Liv looked up at him. For the first time in months, she showed him a hint of her canines. "Move, George. Or I'll show you exactly what a vampire can do when she feels caged."
For a moment, George's mask of superiority wavered. He saw something in her eyes, an ancient, cold promise of violence that even he couldn't ignore. Slowly, reluctantly, he stepped aside.
Without another word, Liv walked out of the penthouse, leaving the gilded cage behind. She didn't know where she was going. She only knew she had to go home. Not to that cold, soulless apartment, but to the old family villa, abandoned for years. A place of memories, dust, and silence. A place where she could finally be alone and lick her wounds.