The ballroom glittered under a cathedral of chandeliers, each crystal shimmering like captured stars. The air smelled of champagne, power, and secrets, the usual perfume of Adrian's world.
Mia stepped through the archway at his side, her fingers resting lightly on his arm. Cameras flashed immediately, catching the contrast between his steel composure and her quiet, effortless elegance.
Their engagement announcement had gone live just two hours earlier.
The world now believed she was Adrian Drake's fiancée.
Adrian didn't slow his pace. "Smile," he murmured under his breath.
"I am," she whispered back through clenched teeth.
His hand tightened slightly over hers, guiding her deeper into the room where board members, investors, media faces, and vultures disguised as socialites waited with sharpened smiles. Despite the tension simmering between them, Mia moved with calculated grace.
She wouldn't give anyone the satisfaction of seeing her unravel.
A woman approached first, tall, brunette, golden and surgically perfect. "Adrian, darling," the woman purred, kissing the air near his cheek. "And this must be your… fiancée."
Mia extended a hand. "Mia Hart."
The woman ignored her hand. "You're… lovely." She smiled, the kind of smile that meant the opposite. "And brave."
Mia arched a brow. "Brave?"
"To marry him." The woman winked. "He eats people for breakfast."
Adrian's jaw flexed. "Cynthia, don't you have someone else to bother?"
Cynthia laughed and drifted away.
Mia looked up at him. "Friend of yours?"
"She's no one."
"You have a lot of 'no ones,' Adrian."
He didn't answer but the unreadable look in his eyes made her pulse spike.
They moved deeper into the event, and for a moment, it felt almost normal. He would lean down to whisper something for the cameras, she would pretend to laugh. When she felt overwhelmed, his hand slid gently to the small of her back, guiding, grounding and possessive in a way that made her skin feel too warm.
But the calm didn't last.
Her name rippled through the air before she heard the voice.
"Mia?"
Her body went rigid.
No.
Not here.
Not tonight.
She turned slowly, unwillingly.
Julian Crest stood near the champagne tower, looking exactly as he had the last time he ruined her life, impeccably dressed, devastatingly charming, and wickedly dangerous beneath all that beauty.
His eyes lit up at the sight of her. "Mia Hart," he breathed. "Or should I say… Mia Drake?"
Adrian's entire body went still beside her.
Julian approached, ignoring Adrian entirely as he cupped Mia's elbow lightly. "You look even more stunning than I remember."
"Don't touch her." Adrian's voice was low enough to shake the air.
Julian smiled, unfazed. "Relax, Drake. I'm just congratulating an old friend."
"We're not friends," Mia said sharply, stepping back.
Julian tilted his head. "You weren't saying that when you were in my bed."
The room froze.
The air punched out of Mia's lungs. "Julian!"
Adrian stepped forward, shoulders squared, eyes colder than any glare she'd ever seen. "Leave. Now."
Julian's grin widened. "So protective. So territorial. Is that part of the contract or are you actually catching feelings?"
Adrian moved again, this time too quickly. Mia grabbed his arm.
"Adrian," she whispered. "Don't."
His eyes traced his arm down to her hand wrapped around his arm. Something in him softened, just for a second.
Julian watched the exchange with delighted malice.
"Well," he drawled, swirling his champagne, "I suppose congratulations are in order. A marriage built on desperation, debt, and PR. How… poetic."
"You don't know anything about us," Mia snapped.
"Oh, but the world will," Julian replied smoothly. "The press loves a good tragedy."
Adrian's voice was ice. "You try anything, and I'll bury you with your own headlines."
Julian leaned in slightly, whispering, "You have no idea who you're defending."
Before Mia could retort, a photographer approached, flashes erupting as he captured the three of them together.
Julian smirked. "Hope your PR team is ready."
And then he walked away, leaving destruction in his wake.
Adrian turned to her. "Why didn't you tell me he would be here?"
"Because I didn't know," she said, breath trembling.
"You two have history."
"And you knew that," she shot back. "It's in the damn contract, Adrian! you vetted my entire life."
"Not all of it, apparently."
The words hurt more than they should.
She stepped back. "I'm not talking about this here."
Before he could stop her, Mia slipped away into the nearest corridor, the noise of the party dimming behind her. She needed space. Air. Anything that wasn't him or Julian or flashing cameras.
Her heart wouldn't slow down.
Julian's return wasn't coincidence.
It was a warning.
She reached the balcony, bracing her hands on the cool stone railing as the night breeze wrapped around her like a cloak.
Her mind raced.
Her past, the one she thought she'd buried — was clawing back to the surface.
She was so deep in thought she didn't hear Adrian until he closed the balcony doors behind him.
"Mia."
She didn't turn.
His voice softened. "Look at me."
After a long moment, she did hesitantly.
He approached her, each step measured. "What did he mean? About your past?"
"Don't," she whispered. "Don't ask me questions you don't want the answers to."
His jaw clenched. "I want all the answers."
She shook her head. "No, you want control. And those aren't the same thing."
"Mia," he said, stepping closer, "whatever Julian is trying to insinuate—"
"He's not insinuating anything." Her voice cracked. "He's reminding me of who I used to be."
"And who is that?"
She looked away.
Adrian reached for her chin, gently guiding her face back toward him.
"Mia… who were you?"
Her throat tightened painfully. "Someone naïve. Someone stupid. Someone who believed Julian Crest when he said he loved me."
Adrian's eyes darkened. "He hurt you."
"It doesn't matter anymore."
"It matters to me."
The confession slipped from him before he could stop it.
Silence washed over them, heavy and electric.
Her breath hitched. "Why?"
Adrian seemed shocked by himself, as if the words had betrayed him. "Because you're my wife," he said quietly.
"By contract."
He shook his head once. "No. It's… more than that."
Her heart dropped.
Just as she opened her mouth to respond, a vibration broke the moment.
Mia's phone.
She glanced down.
Her blood ran cold.
Julian: You don't know who you married. Check his past. Check the file he hid from you.
Her lips parted in horror.
Before she could lock the screen, Adrian's gaze snapped to the name flashing across the glass.
Julian.
Everything shattered.
"What is he sending you?" Adrian demanded, stepping forward.
"Adrian—"
"Show me."
"No."
"Mia." His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. "Give me the phone."
Before she could move, Adrian's phone buzzed too. An unknown number. One message.
He read it.
His eyes went dead.
You don't know who you married. She's lying to you. Check her file.
Mia froze.
He looked up at her, wounded, furious, betrayed.
"Mia… why is Julian contacting you?"
She opened her mouth—
Glass shattered behind them.
A champagne flute had fallen or been thrown by an unseen hand inside the ballroom.
But neither of them looked away from each other.
Everything they'd built, every fragile inch, suddenly felt ready to collapse.
And that was where the night truly began to unravel.