Chapter 11 – The Gala Games
Clara had never felt more like an impostor in her life.
The grand ballroom glittered with chandeliers, soft music, and people who smelled like money. She stood by Ethan's side in a navy gown borrowed from his stylist — the kind that cost more than her rent for six months.
"You look… uncomfortable," he said quietly.
"Gee, what gave it away?" she whispered back. "The fact that I've tripped three times and haven't even moved?"
He glanced at her, eyes scanning every corner of the room. Calm, controlled, untouchable. "You'll be fine. Just smile."
She forced a grin. "Like this?"
"Less teeth."
"Bossy," she muttered.
His lips twitched. "Wife privileges."
Before she could respond, a familiar voice called out — smooth, amused. "Well, if it isn't the happy couple."
Thomas Vance approached, glass in hand, wearing a smile that didn't reach his eyes.
"Thomas," Ethan said flatly. "Still pretending to be charming?"
Thomas laughed. "Always. And you must be Clara. The city's favorite mystery bride."
Clara smiled politely. "And you must be the man who practices smirking in mirrors."
Thomas blinked, then laughed genuinely. "I like her."
Ethan's expression didn't change, but his hand subtly rested at her back — possessive, protective, and unexpectedly grounding.
"So, Clara," Thomas continued smoothly. "How did you and Ethan meet? I've heard everything from fate to blackmail."
Clara froze. Ethan's gaze flicked toward her — warning.
She smiled sweetly. "Oh, we met at a coffee shop. He insulted me, I insulted him back, and here we are. True love, right?"
A ripple of laughter went through the nearby guests.
Ethan leaned down, murmuring in her ear, "You enjoy chaos too much."
She smirked. "I'm balancing your personality."
Later that evening, as the gala buzzed with chatter, Clara noticed something odd — a woman in a silver dress watching them intently from the balcony. When their eyes met, the woman turned away quickly.
"Ethan," Clara whispered, tugging his sleeve. "Do you know her?"
He followed her gaze, his expression tightening. "Stay close to me."
"Who is she?"
"Someone who shouldn't be here."
The music swelled — but Clara could feel it.
Something dark was shifting beneath all the glitter.