Chapter Thirty-Two: Under the Chandelier
The gala hall shimmered with golden light, the grand chandeliers spilling brilliance over polished marble floors and guests adorned in luxury. Music floated in the air, a soft melody from the string quartet tucked in one corner, weaving elegance into the night.
Lu Xiao clutched Dylan's arm tightly as they entered. Her gown—a deep sapphire chosen by Dylan's personal stylist—flowed around her like water. It was beautiful, but it made her feel exposed, as though every pair of eyes was dissecting her.
She leaned closer to him, whispering, "I don't belong here."
Dylan's hand covered hers, firm and reassuring. He bent slightly, his lips brushing her ear. "You belong anywhere I stand, Xiao. And tonight, I want the world to know it."
His words were steady, but she felt the ripple of tension in him too. These weren't just business partners—they were power players, vultures dressed in silk and diamonds. And he was parading her in front of them, not as an assistant, but as someone far closer.
As they moved deeper into the hall, heads turned. Murmurs followed. A few curious smiles, a few thinly veiled sneers. Xiao's cheeks burned, but Dylan remained unshaken. He introduced her without hesitation: "This is Lu Xiao, my personal assistant."
The title was simple, but the way he said it—the pride in his voice, the possessiveness in his tone—left no doubt she was far more.
They stopped at a cluster of investors, men in tailored suits with sharp eyes. "Han," one of them greeted with a polite smile. "And… this must be your new assistant. A charming choice."
Xiao bowed her head slightly in greeting, but the man's gaze lingered too long, appraising, dismissive. Her stomach twisted.
Dylan's hand tightened over hers, his jaw hardening. "She's not a choice," he said coolly. "She's part of this company, and she's earned her place."
The group fell silent, the man's smirk faltering. Xiao felt a flicker of warmth at his defense, though unease still coiled in her chest.
As the evening unfolded, Dylan was pulled into conversation after conversation. Xiao stood by his side, smiling politely, speaking when spoken to, though her mind was far away. Every time she glanced across the room, she thought she saw someone watching her—a figure at the edge of the crowd, eyes sharp, gaze unyielding. But when she turned fully, they were gone.
She excused herself after a while, needing a breath of air. The balcony was quiet, the night breeze cool against her flushed skin. She gripped the railing, staring down at the city lights below.
"Quite the fairytale, isn't it?"
The voice behind her made her freeze. She turned slowly, and her blood ran cold.
A man leaned casually against the doorway, a glass of champagne in his hand. His smile was sharp, knowing. She didn't recognize his face, but something about the way he looked at her—mocking, invasive—told her he was connected to the call she had received.
"You clean up well," he continued, eyes roaming her gown. "But don't think a dress hides where you came from. Some stains never wash away."
Xiao's throat tightened. "Who are you?"
"Someone who remembers." His smirk widened. "The girl who stumbled into Lei Han's bed five years ago, drugged and discarded. The one with siblings she could barely feed. Tell me, how do you think these people inside will react when they learn that little story?"
Her stomach churned. "Stay away from me," she whispered, her voice trembling.
He took a step closer, lowering his voice. "That depends on you. Walk away from him, and maybe your secrets stay buried. Stay by his side… and watch everything you've built burn."
A sharp voice cut through the tension. "Xiao?"
Dylan stood in the doorway, his eyes flicking between her pale face and the stranger's smug expression. In an instant, his expression hardened into ice.
"Han," the man said smoothly, straightening his jacket as if nothing had happened. "We were just talking."
Dylan's arm slipped protectively around Xiao's waist, pulling her close. His voice was calm, but there was a lethal edge to it. "Then consider the conversation over."
The man only smiled, raising his glass in mock salute before walking away, disappearing back into the crowd.
Xiao's legs trembled, and Dylan felt it. He turned her to face him fully, his eyes searching hers. "What did he say?"
She opened her mouth, then closed it again. Fear warred with the urge to tell him everything. But before she could decide, he cupped her face firmly.
"Xiao," he said, his voice low, unwavering. "I don't care who they are or what they say. No one touches you. No one threatens you. As long as I'm breathing, I won't let them."
Her eyes burned with tears she hadn't realized she was holding back. She leaned into him, letting his strength shield her. But deep down, she knew this was only the beginning—the shadows were closer now, and they would not stop until they tore them apart.