The grand doors of the Knight Foundation's ballroom swung open, and a thousand lights spilled across polished marble floors. Chandeliers glittered overhead, reflecting in the champagne flutes clutched by the city's wealthiest elite.
Lena's arm was tucked in Adrian's, her fingers clinging tighter than she meant to. Cameras flashed as soon as they entered—reporters and paparazzi stationed at the entrance, hungry for headlines.
"Smile," Adrian murmured against her ear, his voice low, steady. "Let them see how untouchable we are."
She tried, forcing her lips into a serene curve, though her heart hammered. The gown shimmered with every step, but all she felt was the weight of eyes—judging, measuring, cataloguing her presence at Adrian Knight's side.
"Mr. Knight!" a businessman boomed as they descended the stairs. "Always a pleasure. And this must be Miss Hart."
Lena offered her hand, her politeness masking the swirl of nerves. One introduction led to another, and soon they were swept into a tide of greetings, nods, clinks of glasses. Adrian's hand never left her waist, his touch grounding her each time she faltered.
Yet beneath the polished laughter, Lena sensed it—a shift in the air. Subtle at first.
Two women whispered behind jeweled fans, eyes flicking toward her. A waiter passed by, lingering just a second too long when he heard her name.
Then came the first sting, disguised as a casual remark.
"Lena Hart, you said?" A woman in a sapphire gown tilted her head, feigning innocence. "Any relation to… Daniel Hart?"
Lena froze. The name sliced through her like a blade. Her smile faltered, her throat tightening.
Adrian's gaze sharpened instantly. "Excuse me?" His voice was cool, commanding.
"Oh," the woman said lightly, swirling her champagne. "I only ask because there were some… stories about him. Business gone bad, debts left unpaid. Such a shame, really."
Her companion giggled, covering it poorly. "And to think, Mr. Knight, you've brought her here tonight. Bold of you."
Lena's chest constricted. Heat flushed her cheeks, but not from the chandeliers. They know. They're talking about him—about my family.
Adrian stepped forward, his voice steel. "That will be the last time either of you mentions her family tonight. Do I make myself clear?"
The women faltered under his glare, offering weak smiles before retreating into the crowd.
But the damage was done. Whispers rippled like cracks in glass, spreading through the ballroom. Each laugh Lena heard felt sharper, each glance heavier.
Her hand trembled against Adrian's arm. "Adrian…"
He leaned close, his voice firm but quiet. "Look only at me, Lena. They don't matter. Not one of them."
She nodded, swallowing hard, but the storm inside her wouldn't quiet. Because she knew this wasn't just a careless comment. Someone wanted this out. Someone had planned it.
And as Clara Hayes raised her glass across the room, her red lips curving into a satisfied smile, Lena felt the ground beneath her begin to crack.