The invitation arrived in a cream envelope.
No return address needed.
She recognized the handwriting instantly.
Her fingers didn't tremble.
That surprised her.
Elena brought it to her while she was seated in the lounge reviewing documents her father had sent over.
"Personal," Elena said quietly.
Tia nodded.
When she opened it, she already knew.
We hope you can attend the wedding of—
She stopped reading.
Wedding.
So fast.
So shameless.
A faint smile touched her lips.
Of course he would invite her.
He needed to prove something.
To himself.
To her.
To the world.
Closure? No.
Validation.
Adrian entered the room a minute later.
He didn't ask what she was holding.
He simply noticed.
"You've been staring at that paper for sixty seconds," he said calmly.
She glanced up.
"My ex is getting married."
A pause.
"To your friend," he assumed.
She raised an eyebrow slightly.
"You calculate fast."
"I gather patterns."
She held up the invitation slightly.
"He invited me."
Adrian's jaw shifted almost imperceptibly.
"Will you go?"
It wasn't possessive.
It wasn't commanding.
It was curiosity wrapped in control.
She leaned back against the couch.
"Yes."
His gaze sharpened slightly.
"Why?"
She met his eyes directly.
"Because I don't run."
Silence.
Then—
"Do you want me there?" he asked.
That question felt heavier than it should have.
She looked at him carefully.
"I don't need protection."
"That wasn't what I asked."
The air shifted.
She looked away first.
"I'll go alone."
He nodded once.
"Security will still be present."
She didn't argue.
She knew better.
The wedding venue was grand.
Gold lights.
Crystal chandeliers.
Too much white.
Tia walked in wearing black.
Not inappropriate.
Just deliberate.
Heads turned.
Whispers followed.
She ignored them.
Then she saw him.
Her ex.
Standing at the front, laughing with guests.
He looked… happy.
Or maybe relieved.
Until he saw her.
The smile faltered.
Just for a second.
Then he walked toward her.
"You came."
"Of course."
He shifted awkwardly.
"You look… different."
"I am."
His gaze scanned her carefully.
There was regret there.
But not enough.
"You didn't have to come," he said.
"You invited me."
He hesitated.
"I thought maybe we could… talk."
She almost laughed.
"On your wedding day?"
He stepped closer.
"You were important to me."
Were.
There it was again.
Past tense.
She leaned in slightly.
"Then you shouldn't have treated me like an option."
That hit.
His jaw tightened.
"You've changed."
"Yes."
Silence stretched.
Then he said it.
"I hope you're happy."
She smiled.
"I'm learning."
Before he could respond, the bride approached.
Draped in white.
Radiating calculated elegance.
Her former best friend.
"Well," she said smoothly. "I didn't think you'd actually show."
Tia's smile sharpened slightly.
"I don't avoid history."
The bride leaned closer.
"You still look hurt."
Tia tilted her head.
"You still look insecure."
That landed clean.
The bride's expression tightened.
"Tia," her ex warned softly.
She stepped back.
"Relax. I'm not here to cause a scene."
She let her gaze sweep over them both.
"I'm here to congratulate you."
And with that—
She walked out.
Graceful.
Unshaken.
Until she reached her car.
That's when the ache came.
Not because she wanted him back.
But because five years don't evaporate.
They leave shadows.
Instead of going home—
She gave the driver a different address.
A club.
The music was loud.
The lights chaotic.
Perfect.
She didn't want silence.
She didn't want reflection.
She wanted noise.
She ordered a drink.
Then another.
Then another.
The burn helped.
A man approached her.
Confident smile.
"Rough night?"
She laughed softly.
"Something like that."
He offered his hand.
"Dance?"
She hesitated for half a second.
Then placed her hand in his.
Why not?
She wasn't loyal anymore.
She wasn't waiting anymore.
She wasn't the girl who cried in parking lots.
They danced.
Too close.
Too reckless.
Her mind blurred pleasantly.
Another shot.
Then another.
Her vision softened at the edges.
And that's when she felt it.
The shift.
That same shift she had felt the first day at the estate.
Air tightening.
Energy lowering.
She turned.
Adrian stood at the entrance of the club.
Dark suit.
No expression.
Watching.
He didn't look angry.
That would've been easier.
He looked controlled.
Which was worse.
The man she was dancing with noticed him too.
"Friend of yours?" he asked casually.
Tia's lips curved faintly.
"Something like that."
Adrian walked toward them.
Not rushed.
Not dramatic.
Just inevitable.
The crowd subtly parted.
The music suddenly felt too loud.
He stopped in front of her.
His gaze moved from her flushed cheeks… to the man's hand still resting at her waist.
"Leave," Adrian said calmly.
The man laughed.
"Excuse me?"
Adrian didn't look at him.
"I wasn't speaking to you."
The man bristled.
"Hey—"
Adrian's eyes finally shifted.
Cold.
Flat.
Final.
"Walk away."
Something in that tone made the man hesitate.
Then he stepped back.
Smart choice.
Tia swayed slightly.
"You're not my keeper," she muttered.
"No," Adrian agreed.
He stepped closer.
"But you're drunk."
"I'm aware."
"You're not steady."
"I'm fine."
She wasn't.
He reached for her wrist.
Not rough.
But firm.
She pulled slightly.
"Don't," she whispered.
He froze.
Her eyes lifted to his.
Glassier than usual.
"Don't control me," she said softly.
"I'm not controlling you."
"Then what are you doing?"
His jaw tightened.
"Preventing regret."
She laughed faintly.
"I already had that."
The words slipped out before she could stop them.
Silence fell between them.
He studied her carefully.
"Because of him," he said quietly.
She didn't answer.
Which was answer enough.
Her shoulders sagged slightly.
The alcohol lowering her walls.
"I was loyal," she murmured. "Five years. I thought that meant something."
His expression changed.
Barely.
But enough.
"It meant something to you," he said.
"That's not enough," she whispered.
Her voice cracked slightly.
Just slightly.
And that—
That did something to him.
He stepped closer.
Close enough to catch her when she swayed.
His hand moved to her waist.
Steadying.
Not possessive.
Supportive.
"You went to the wedding," he said.
"Yes."
"Why?"
She looked up at him.
Eyes vulnerable now.
"Because I didn't want to look weak."
"You didn't."
"I felt it."
He held her gaze.
"You mistake pain for weakness."
She blinked slowly.
"I'm not gentle anymore."
His thumb tightened slightly against her side.
"Good," he said quietly.
"But don't punish yourself for feeling."
The music faded into background noise.
For the first time—
His voice didn't sound like a strategist.
It sounded… human.
She leaned slightly into him without realizing.
"I don't want to care anymore," she whispered.
He looked down at her.
"You will," he said.
She frowned faintly.
"That sounds cruel."
"It's reality."
His hand moved from her wrist to her back.
Guiding her toward the exit.
Not dragging.
Guiding.
"You don't stop feeling," he continued. "You learn who deserves it."
Her breathing slowed slightly.
"Do you?" she asked.
"Do I what?"
"Deserve it?"
That question lingered.
Heavy.
He didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he opened the car door for her.
Helped her inside.
As he closed the door, she caught his sleeve lightly.
"Why did you come?" she asked softly.
He looked at her.
Truly looked.
"I don't like unpredictability," he said.
"That's not the reason."
Silence.
Then—
"I don't like seeing you hurt."
It wasn't loud.
It wasn't dramatic.
But it was honest.
Her fingers loosened.
The car door closed.
And for the first time—
Adrian Vale felt something shift inside his chest.
Something unfamiliar.
Something softer.
He didn't name it.
He didn't need to.
But as he got into the car beside her—
And she unconsciously leaned slightly toward him—
He realized one dangerous thing.
He no longer saw this engagement as strategy.
And that—
Was far more dangerous than any rival.