The office was buzzing.
There was going to be a ValeCorp Gala — invitation only, hosted by Cassian Vale himself.
The dress code? "Power and Elegance."
The guest list? Tighter than the President's.
So why did Arabella receive a personal envelope on her desk with no name, no logo… just an address and a time?
---
She thought it was a mistake.
Until she saw Cassian in the hallway that evening.
He didn't say a word.
Just looked at her.
One second too long.
One second too deep.
And then walked away.
---
Lena noticed everything.
And she hated not knowing why Cassian — the untouchable ice king — looked at Aria Bell like she wasn't just a temp.
"Where are you from, Aria?" Lena asked sweetly later that day.
"Here and there."
"Hmm. Because you don't act like someone who came from... anywhere ordinary."
Arabella tilted her head. "You're right. I didn't."
Lena blinked.
Arabella smiled.
"I came from a castle. Built with lies, glitter, and daddy's credit card. But I walked out barefoot. You?"
Lena didn't reply.
Just stormed off with her heels clicking like bullets on tile.
---
That night, Arabella stared at her closet.
Pink? Too obvious.
Silver? Too desperate.
Then she remembered the color Cassian wore the night of their "engagement" — the one he said made her look like she belonged in a snow globe he never wanted to break.
Midnight blue.
A gown in that exact shade still hung at the back of her closet. Never worn. A gift from a designer friend she never planned to impress.
She slipped it on.
Did her makeup soft and low.
Hair curled, pinned up like a princess who chose to stay in the tower, not be rescued.
No pink. No bows. No Barbie.
Just Arabella Quinn — raw and real.
---
She arrived at the gala fashionably late.
All eyes turned.
Even Lena's jaw went slightly slack.
But the only gaze Arabella cared about—
Cassian's.
He was talking to investors.
Paused mid-sentence when she entered.
Didn't move.
Didn't breathe.
Just stared.
Until his assistant whispered something, and he tore his eyes away.
---
He approached her an hour later.
Cold. Controlled.
"You shouldn't be here."
"You sent me the invitation."
"I didn't think you'd come."
She leaned in, lips near his ear.
"You don't know me very well, Mr. Vale."
The corner of his mouth twitched.
Almost a smile.
"Apparently not."
---
Their hands brushed once.
By accident.
Not really.
The tension was unbearable.
But neither of them let it show.
---
Lena, watching from a distance, snapped a photo.
Sent it to an anonymous gossip blog.
Caption:
"CEO Caught With Mystery Girl — Not Who You Think"
And just like that, the game began.
Arabella wasn't hiding anymore.
She was rising.
And someone — maybe everyone — was about to get burned.
---