I stood inside Kaelen Sterling's walk-in closet, and I felt so small and utterly defeated. The contract was very clear: I was his wife, and that meant I had to attend the annual Metropolitan Museum Gala. It was the city's biggest, most important social and corporate party of the year. I needed a dress, but this closet was a shrine to Kaelen's meticulous, boring taste. There were endless rows of identical white shirts, black ties, and fifty different shades of gray suits. Nothing here was alive.
His personal stylist, a bony woman named Clarissa, was already there. She looked down her nose at my worn leather portfolio like it was garbage. She had selected the outfit. It wasn't a beautiful, interesting gown; it was a simple, stark, black sheath dress from the Valerius Group's conservative ready-to-wear line. It was designed to be forgotten.
"Mr. Sterling insisted you wear Valerius," Clarissa said flatly, holding the dress like it was a sacred, priceless artifact. "It's to show solidarity ahead of the acquisition. Keep your jewelry minimal, just the ring and please, try not to smudge the pristine image we're aiming for. This event is vital for the Sterling Global brand."
I knew the game, and the knowledge made my stomach twist. Kaelen was using me as a human shield and a walking billboard. He wanted me to be a bland, silent accessory that proved he was "stable," while also subtly boosting the value of the company he was buying. That company was the one I, as The Thread Dissenter, had publicly slammed for its total lack of originality. The dress was plain, conservative, and designed to make me disappear entirely. It would hide my talent and, more importantly, it would hide my secret identity.
As I put the dress on, I felt a sharp surge of disgust. The fabric was cheap, the cut was ill-fitting and awful around the waist, and the whole thing screamed uninspired. It was exactly the kind of mass-produced, thoughtless garment I spent my nights railing against online. This was my moment for my first big public showing and I needed to make a statement, not against Kaelen, but against the people who expected me to be nothing. I remembered the fifty million dollars I needed. I had to survive this night, I knew that, but I absolutely refused to be boring while doing it.
I marched back out into the apartment, my mind racing through solutions. Clarissa was already waiting, ready to approve the final, boring look.
"Perfectly acceptable," Clarissa sighed, already turning to leave, her job done.
"Not quite," I said, my voice firm and clear. I walked straight to the kitchen drawer and pulled out a large, industrial-grade pair of scissors. Clarissa gasped, spinning around in horror.
"What are you doing? That is Valerius! You can't you can't mutilate it!" she shrieked.
I ignored her completely. I didn't even look at her. In two swift, precise cuts, the kind only a designer knows how to make. I sliced open the full-length skirt up to my mid-thigh, creating a dramatic, daring slit. Then, I grabbed a long, thick silk scarf I'd found in Kaelen's jacket pocket a scarf meant for his boring neck. I twisted it hard into a thick cord. I cinched the ill-fitting waistline tight, using the scarf to create a structured, asymmetrical knot on my hip. The plain black sheath was instantly transformed into a dynamic, daring, one-of-a-kind gown that showed how much of an eye i had as a designer.
"It was acceptable before," I said, looking right at the horrified stylist. I felt a rush of satisfaction. "Now, it's original. Tell Mr. Sterling it's a statement piece, showing that Valerius is moving into the future, that should help his stock price."
Clarissa fled the apartment in a total panic, running to call Kaelen's assistant, I was sure. She left me alone to examine my work. It wasn't just a design fix; it was a small, secret declaration of war on the conservative taste that had tried to bury me. I felt a core of my old self coming back.
Kaelen arrived minutes later, his face set in a mask of stern, cold control. He stopped dead in the doorway when he saw me. His eyes, usually so cold and detached, traveled slowly from the severe updo I'd managed, down the new, daring lines of the dress, to the unexpected knot at my hip. He didn't look angry; he was assessing me
"The stylist called, she was hysterical. What did you do to the dress?" he demanded.
"I improved it," I replied simply, meeting his gaze. "You need a wife who looks valuable, Kaelen. I don't look valuable in things that are boring and ill-fitting."
A small muscle twitched in his jaw. He didn't yell or scold, which surprised me. Instead, he simply nodded, his eyes lingering on the scarf detail. "Fine but if you cause a scene beyond the dress, the contract is terminated tonight. Remember your position, Mrs. Sterling."
The trip to the gala was silent again. We entered the museum's grand hall, an enormous, space teeming with the city's most powerful elite, and the silence immediately broke into a hundred low, sharp whispers. I could feel the eyes boring into me, heavy and critical. I heard the snippets: gold-digger, mistake, divorce soon, where did he find her?
Then, I saw her. Seraphina Thorne, Kaelen's intended fiancée before my accidental marriage, floated toward us. She was draped in a gown that looked three times more expensive than my entire life savings. Seraphina was a socialite and a model, beautiful in a sharp, intimidating, socially perfect way.
"Kaelen, darling," Seraphina purred, embracing him with an overly familiar hug. She didn't spare me a glance until Kaelen subtly moved his arm, forcing the acknowledgment. Seraphina then fixed me with a pitying, tight smile. "Amara, is it? How brave of you to wear a piece from the Valerius ready-to-wear line. I suppose it must be difficult transitioning from… whatever you were doing before… to this."
The insult was precise, public, and designed to remind every person there that I was poor, low-status, and entirely temporary. The group around them snickered. My cheeks burned with humiliation, but I held my composure.
"I found the ready-to-wear line lacked personality," I said, raising my chin slightly. "So I gave it some of mine. It needed it."
Seraphina's smile tightened, turning brittle. "I'm sure the shareholders appreciate the effort, but darling, effort rarely sells. You're simply not equipped for this world." She then deliberately turned her back to me, addressing only Kaelen, completely dismissing his wife in front of dozens of his corporate rivals. "The auction is starting. I've secured a prime table. You'll join me?"
Kaelen hesitated. He was supposed to maintain a stable image, and ignoring his wife to sit with his former fiancée would be disastrously revealing to the board. He was calculating the optics, the business angle but he was doing it too slowly. He looked stuck.
Before I could move or speak a single word, Seraphina deliberately 'tripped.' Her elbow swung wide, holding a glass of deep red wine. The glass went flying, aimed straight at the front of my black dress. Seraphina hadn't meant to cause a small stain; she had meant to ruin the dress, the entire night, and my fragile public confidence. It was a purely vicious move.
Time seemed to slow down to a crawl. I braced myself for the embarrassing, destructive splash, feeling a furious heat rise in my chest not from fear of the wine, but from the sheer maliciousness of her attack.
But the wine never reached me.
In a swift move, Kaelen dropped his hand to my waist, hauling me flush against his hard chest and twisting us around in one fluid, powerful motion. He didn't think about it; he just reacted. The wine glass shattered harmlessly against the marble floor a foot away. The crowd gasped, then fell silent.
Kaelen held me tightly against his hard body, his breath warm against my ear. His body felt like a solid wall. He looked up, his gaze sweeping over Seraphina and the surrounding group with a lethal, icy glare that shut down every whisper. This was not the careful calculation of a CEO; it was the raw, protective possessiveness of a predator.
"My wife is not clumsy, Seraphina," Kaelen's voice was low, but it carried across the sudden silence of the marble hall. "And she is not available for comment, for insults, or for staged accidents. She is my partner for the evening, and she will be treated with the respect due to a Sterling."
He did not let go, with his body still pressed firmly against mine, his left hand cupping the back of my head, Kaelen lowered his face. He simply claimed my mouth in a searing, shocking, desperate kiss.
It was fierce and thorough. It was a public declaration that was less about affection and much more about dominance, showing everyone I was his property but the sheer force of the kiss, the unexpected heat and the raw need he put into it, instantly erased the line between contract and chemistry. My heart vaulted into my throat, and I instinctively gripped the front of his suit jacket to steady myself. The world narrowed down to the taste of him and the hard press of his body.
The cameras exploded in a rapid-fire succession of blinding flashes.
Kaelen finally pulled back, his eyes dark with an emotion I couldn't name. Part controlled fury, part lingering hunger. He looked at Seraphina, whose face was pale with shock and absolute fury, then back at me. I was breathing hard.
"Smile, Mrs. Sterling," he whispered, his lips brushing mine again. His voice was low, for my ears only, but the warning was clear. "That was a scene, we have a role to play. Don't forget why you're here."
He released his grip on my head, but his arm remained locked around my waist. He pulled me into their next step, walking straight past Seraphina and into the glittering, buzzing heart of the gala. I walked beside him, stunned and shaking, knowing that my simple, desperate contract had just been escalated into a full-blown, chaotic scandal.