The gala was a sea of opulence, a world of perfection where the most powerful and influential people in the city came to rub elbows and, inevitably, stab each other in the back. The chandeliers gleamed overhead, casting a soft glow over the polished marble floors. Zara moved through the crowd with practiced ease, but the anxiety gnawed at her. Lucien was nowhere to be seen, but she could feel his presence looming over her.
The plan had been set in motion.
The evening had been carefully orchestrated. She wasn't here to enjoy herself. She was here to be seen, to be a spectacle. Lucien would make his entrance soon, and the scene they had planned would unfold.
Then, as if on cue, Lucien appeared, his tall figure cutting through the crowd like a knife. Zara's pulse quickened. Their eyes met for a brief moment, and she could see the glint of something dangerous in his gaze. He was ready for this. More than ready.
The first spark of their argument came from something trivial—a miscommunication over the venue's layout, something so petty it could barely be called a disagreement. But Zara knew the game well. She threw out the first barb, her voice clipped and controlled, "You've always been so sure of yourself, Lucien. It's exhausting."
His gaze darkened. "And you're always so full of surprises, Zara. You think you know everything, but you don't. Not anymore."
Her breath caught. There it was—the tension, the simmering anger beneath the surface. They were drawing attention, people were stopping to watch, and Zara could feel the shift. The eyes of the room were on them, their whispers starting to fill the air.
Lucien's voice rose. "You think you can play this game without consequences?"
Zara's heart pounded, but she didn't back down. "I'm done being your pawn, Lucien. You've used me for too long. You've controlled every move I've made."
The words were out before she could stop them, and they hung heavy in the air, like a challenge.
Lucien's lips curled into a mocking smile. "You're delusional if you think you have any control here, Zara."
"I'm not delusional," she shot back, her voice rising to match his. "But you're right about one thing—you've been controlling this entire time. And I've let you."
The argument escalated from there, growing louder, more intense. The room was filled with gasps, the buzz of whispers growing with every word they exchanged. Lucien's face was a mask of anger, his eyes flashing with the same cold, calculating intensity she had come to know all too well. But Zara was no longer intimidated. She was beyond that.
"You're nothing without me!" Lucien's voice cracked like thunder, and for a moment, Zara's pulse skipped. But she held her ground, her voice steady, unwavering.
"Maybe you're right," she said coolly. "But I don't need you anymore."
The words hung in the air like a death sentence, and the crowd around them was silent for a long moment before the whispers began again, this time louder, more frantic.
Lucien's face twisted in fury, but before he could say anything else, he turned on his heel and walked away, leaving Zara standing in the middle of the ballroom, her heart racing.
It was done. The scandal had begun.