Natasha's POV
Natasha stared at her reflection in the full-length mirror and barely recognized herself.
The woman looking back wore a midnight blue dress that probably cost more than her entire year's rent. Her hair had been professionally styled, her makeup applied by an expert James had sent to her apartment that afternoon. She looked expensive, polished, like she belonged in the world she was about to enter.
She looked like a lie.
The car is waiting, Ms. Quinn, James said from the doorway of her tiny apartment. He'd been nothing but professional all week, coordinating every detail of tonight's appearance at the Riverside Charity Gala.
The same gala where, one year ago, Natasha had been publicly accused of plagiarism in front of the entire journalism community.
Her stomach twisted with nausea.
I can't do this, she whispered.
James's expression softened slightly. Yes, you can. And you will. Because Mr. Chen is counting on you, and because walking in there on his arm is the best revenge you could possibly have against the people who destroyed you.
He was right. Natasha knew he was right. But knowing didn't stop her hands from shaking as she grabbed the small clutch purse James had provided.
The car ride to the hotel felt like driving toward her own execution. Natasha sat in the back of the black town car, watching the city lights blur past, trying to remember how to breathe normally.
Her phone buzzed. A text from Elias: I'm already inside. James will bring you through the main entrance. Remember—you're here with me. You're untouchable.
The confidence in those words steadied her slightly. Elias Chen didn't do anything halfway. If he said she was untouchable, he'd make sure it was true.
The car pulled up to the hotel entrance where photographers lined the red carpet. Camera flashes exploded like lightning as celebrities and wealthy donors stepped out of their vehicles.
Natasha's door opened. James stood there, offering his hand.
Ready? he asked quietly.
No. She wasn't ready. She'd never be ready.
Let's go, she said anyway.
The moment her foot touched the red carpet, the cameras swung toward her. Flashes blinded her. Voices called out questions she couldn't hear over the roaring in her ears.
Then a strong hand slipped into hers, warm and steady.
Elias appeared beside her, devastatingly handsome in his black tuxedo, his expression calm and controlled. He laced his fingers through hers and pulled her close, his other hand settling possessively on her lower back.
Breathe, he murmured against her ear. Smile. You're here with me now. They can't touch you.
Natasha forced her lips into a smile as they walked the red carpet together. Photographers shouted their names. Mr. Chen! Who's your date? Natasha! Look this way! Over here!
Every step felt like walking through fire. But Elias's hand never left hers, his presence solid and unshakeable beside her.
They entered the ballroom and Natasha's breath caught.
She knew this place. Had networked here as a respected journalist. Had laughed and celebrated here with colleagues who now pretended she didn't exist.
The whispers started immediately.
Is that Natasha Quinn?
What is she doing here?
Didn't she get caught plagiarizing?
She's with Elias Chen? How did that happen?
Each whisper felt like a knife between her ribs. Natasha's smile wavered.
Elias's hand tightened on her waist. Look at me, he commanded softly.
She turned to face him, and his dark eyes locked onto hers with an intensity that made everything else fade.
They're beneath you, he said quietly. Every person in this room who believed lies about you isn't worth your attention. The only person you need to convince tonight is my grandmother, who's watching from that table over there. Everyone else can go to hell.
Despite everything, Natasha felt a laugh bubble up in her chest. You really don't care what people think, do you?
Not even a little. His lips curved into a small smile. Now let's give them something to really talk about.
He pulled her into his arms and led her onto the dance floor.
Natasha hadn't expected this. Dancing wasn't in the plan James had outlined. But Elias held her close, one hand at her waist, the other clasping hers, moving with fluid grace that suggested he'd been trained in ballroom dancing since childhood.
You're full of surprises, Natasha murmured.
So are you. I expected you to run screaming when you saw the cameras.
I considered it.
But you didn't. You're stronger than you think, Natasha Quinn.
The use of her first name sent an unexpected warmth through her chest. All week, he'd called her Ms. Quinn. This felt different. More intimate.
Dangerous.
The song ended and Elias led her off the dance floor. That's when Natasha saw them.
Across the ballroom, standing near the bar, Marcus Webb had his arm around Simone Park's waist. They were dressed expensively, looking successful and happy and completely unbothered by the woman they'd destroyed.
Then Marcus's eyes found hers.
His face went white with shock. He said something to Simone, who turned and saw Natasha on Elias's arm.
Simone's expression transformed from surprise to something ugly and angry.
Natasha's legs went weak. Her breath caught in her throat. Six months of rage and pain and humiliation crashed over her all at once.
Elias must have felt her trembling because his hand moved to steady her back, warm and solid.
Breathe, he whispered. They can't touch you now.
But Marcus was already moving toward them, weaving through the crowd with Simone following behind. His expression had shifted from shock to something harder. Threatening.
This is going to get ugly, Natasha warned.
Good, Elias said calmly. I was hoping for entertainment tonight.
Marcus stopped directly in front of them, his smile fake and brittle. Natasha. What a surprise seeing you here. I didn't think you'd have the courage to show your face at industry events anymore.
The casual cruelty in his voice made Natasha's hands clench into fists. This was the man who'd whispered he loved her while planning her destruction. This was the man who'd taken everything from her.
Before she could respond, Simone stepped forward with false sympathy dripping from her voice. Tasha, honey, are you okay? We heard you've been struggling since... well, since everything happened. It must be so hard for you.
The fake concern was worse than outright hostility. They were playing the role of concerned former friends while twisting the knife deeper.
Natasha opened her mouth to tell them exactly where they could shove their concern, but Elias spoke first.
I'm sorry, he said with ice-cold politeness. Have we been introduced? I make it a policy not to speak with people who lack basic integrity.
Marcus's smile tightened. Excuse me?
You're Marcus Webb, aren't you? The journalist who fabricated plagiarism charges against my girlfriend to advance your own career? Elias's voice was perfectly calm, but his words cut like razors. I've read your work. Mediocre at best. Tell me, does it bother you that Natasha's worst day produced better journalism than your entire career?
The ballroom around them had gone quiet. People were watching, listening, phones probably already recording.
Marcus's face flushed red with anger. Your girlfriend is a liar and a thief. She stole stories and—
And you have proof of this? Elias interrupted smoothly. Because I've had my legal team review the evidence used against her. Fascinating how easily digital records can be manipulated by someone with editor access, wouldn't you say, Ms. Park?
Simone's face went pale.
They knew. Somehow Elias had already started investigating, and he'd found something.
I don't know what you're implying, Marcus said tightly. But Natasha's reputation speaks for itself.
As does yours, Elias replied. Though perhaps not in the way you'd prefer. Tell me, how did you afford that Rolex on a journalist's salary? Oh wait—I forgot. You're not really a journalist anymore, are you? You're an executive at Webb Media. How convenient that you received that promotion right after destroying your competition.
Every word was a calculated strike, delivered with surgical precision. Natasha watched Marcus's confident facade crack, watched Simone's hands start to shake.
This was what power looked like. This was what it meant to have someone fight for you instead of against you.
We should go, Simone said quickly, tugging at Marcus's arm. This isn't worth our time.
But Marcus wasn't done. His eyes locked on Natasha with something that looked almost like desperation. You know the truth, Tasha. You know what you did. Finding a rich boyfriend doesn't change that.
Before Natasha could respond, a smooth voice interrupted from behind them.
Well, well. What an interesting reunion.
Everyone turned.
A man approached with a politician's smile and expensive suit. He was handsome in a cold way, with eyes that reminded Natasha uncomfortably of Elias's—calculating and sharp.
Richard Chen.
Elias's cousin. The man trying to steal his company.
And based on Marcus's sudden relief, they knew each other.
Richard, Elias said coldly. I didn't realize you knew Ms. Park and Mr. Webb.
Oh, Marcus and I are old friends, Richard said pleasantly. In fact, I'm the one who recommended him for his position at Webb Media. Small world, isn't it?
The pieces clicked together in Natasha's mind with horrifying clarity. Richard owned Webb Media. Richard had given Marcus his job. Which meant Richard had been involved in her destruction from the beginning.
Elias's hand tightened on her waist, and she knew he'd reached the same conclusion.
Very small, Elias said quietly. Almost like someone planned it that way.
Richard's smile widened. I have no idea what you mean, cousin. I just came over to meet your lovely girlfriend. Natasha Quinn, isn't it? The disgraced journalist?
The emphasis on disgraced was deliberate, meant to humiliate her in front of everyone watching.
Natasha lifted her chin and met Richard's eyes directly. Former journalist. I've moved on to more interesting pursuits.
I can see that, Richard said, his gaze sliding between her and Elias with barely hidden contempt. Though I have to wonder—how long does a relationship need to be serious before you introduce your girlfriend to the family, Elias? We haven't heard anything about Ms. Quinn until tonight.
That's because unlike you, Richard, I don't announce every detail of my personal life for public consumption.
Of course not. Richard's smile turned sharp. Though I'm sure Grandmother will be very interested to hear you've finally found someone. She's been so worried about you being alone. I'll have to tell her all about your new relationship when I visit her tomorrow.
The threat was clear. Richard would investigate Natasha, dig into their relationship, look for any proof it was fake.
You do that, Elias said calmly. I'm sure she'll be delighted.
Richard nodded once and walked away, but not before giving Natasha one last measuring look that made her skin crawl.
Marcus and Simone followed him quickly, whispering urgently to each other.
The crowd around them slowly returned to normal conversations, but Natasha could feel eyes still watching them.
That went well, she said weakly.
Elias turned to face her, and for the first time all night, she saw genuine concern in his eyes. Are you okay?
I just realized that the man trying to destroy you is the same man who destroyed me. That can't be a coincidence.
No, Elias agreed quietly. It can't. Which means we're both in more danger than we thought.
Before Natasha could respond, her phone buzzed in her clutch. She pulled it out and her blood turned to ice.
A text from unknown: Beautiful dress, Tasha. Shame about what's going to happen to it. Check the ladies' room. Second stall. You have five minutes before I send the photos to every news outlet in the city.
Attached was a photo of Natasha and Elias's signed contract, clearly visible in the image.
Someone had proof their relationship was fake.
And they were about to expose everything.