The night reeked of power.
It glittered in the champagne. It echoed in the laughter. It pulsed under the marble floors like blood beneath skin.
And Roman Ashborne stood at the center of it all, watching his world spin in a beautiful lie.
They were celebrating a pregnancy.
His child.
His heir.
And no one had the balls to say what they were really thinking — except maybe his father, who stood like a statue at the edge of the room, sipping 60-year-old scotch like it would erase the truth growing in Serene's belly.
A truth they all hated.
Because the woman carrying the Ashborne legacy… wasn't one of them.
She was African.
She was his choice.
And to his parents, that made her wrong.
Roman's jaw flexed.
He could feel the fake smiles. The stiff nods. The quiet murmurs behind their teeth — "Let's hope the child takes after the Ashbornes," "What a shame, such beauty wasted," "Couldn't he have chosen someone… proper?"
They were vultures wrapped in silk.
And tonight, they were breathing too freely.
He spotted them before they reached him—his mother with her gold-plated disdain and his father with his polished venom. Between them walked Gloria, the woman who once thought she could hold his heart.
She was still holding on.
Still deluded.
Roman didn't move as they approached. He let the silence wrap around them like a noose.
"Roman," his father began, voice clipped. "A word."
Roman tilted his head. "That's rare. You wanting words with me."
"We just want to understand," his mother said with a brittle smile. "This… news. It was unexpected."
Roman's eyes narrowed. "Is that your polite way of saying unwanted?"
"No one's saying that—" Gloria started.
"I'm saying it," his father interrupted. "A child is a blessing, Roman. But not every womb is worthy of carrying our blood."
There it was.
The rot behind the wealth.
Roman didn't blink. He took one step forward and watched his father — a man who built an empire off fear — flinch.
"Let me make this very clear," Roman said, voice calm and cold. "That woman inside, the one you all keep whispering about? She's mine. That child is mine. And I don't care what color her skin is, or what bloodline you think is pure."
His mother opened her mouth, but Roman cut her off.
"If you ever insult her again—even with a look—I'll make sure your next gala is held six feet under."
Silence.
Pure and perfect.
He turned and walked away without waiting for their response. He didn't need it. They'd gotten the message.
Roman stepped through the crowd with lethal grace, eyes scanning until they landed on the one person who mattered.
Serene.
She stood near the terrace doors, her body rigid, her smile a little too forced. People passed her like she was just another expensive statue — beautiful, silent, owned.
But Roman saw what they didn't.
The crack.
The glint in her eyes.
The return of something buried.
The original her.
It hit him like a punch to the chest.
He moved through the bodies like smoke, stopping only when he reached her side. She didn't turn. Didn't jump. But her shoulders tensed.
"You're different," he said.
She answered like it meant nothing. "Am I?"
Roman stepped around her, studied her face — and then further down. His hand found her stomach. The faintest swell.
Their future.
"You've changed," he said, his voice low. "Not just your body. Your eyes. Your silence."
"I just found out I'm pregnant, Roman."
He didn't buy it. He never bought lies — even wrapped in silk and spoken softly.
"I'm surprised you're not angry," he said.
"You want me to be?"
"I want you to be you."
She smiled — but it didn't touch her eyes. "Maybe I'm just overwhelmed."
He stared at her.
Looked deeper.
Something was wrong. Something he couldn't name. But he knew her. Knew every inch, every breath, every note of her laugh.
This Serene?
She was hiding something.
But not fear. Not anymore.
It was strategy.
Roman leaned in, kissed her cheek like it was nothing, like he hadn't just realized his doll was alive again.
Then he whispered, so close to her ear that only the wind heard it:
"Don't play games with me, Serene. I'll always win."
And he left her standing there — heart racing, mind spinning, mask cracking.
Because Roman Ashborne didn't need proof.
He felt the shift.
And he would find out what she was hiding… even if he had to tear the whole world apart to get it.
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