The cameras flashed so brightly it almost felt like lightning. Aria stood still, her lips curved into the kind of smile she had practiced a thousand times in front of the mirror. Beautiful, calm, untouchable. Her sapphire gown sparkled under the lights, clinging to her body like it had been poured onto her. Every detail screamed perfection, but inside, she felt like she was drowning.
"Smile, Mrs. Draven," a photographer shouted from the line.
She tilted her head slightly, the smile tightening. Sebastian's hand rested firmly on her waist, fingers digging just enough to remind her who was in control. To the cameras, it looked like an intimate touch, a gesture of love. To her, it was nothing but a warning.
"Closer," Sebastian muttered against her ear, low enough that only she could hear. "Don't embarrass me tonight."
Her jaw clenched. Her smile sharpened like broken glass. "Wouldn't dream of it," she whispered back.
The photographers were eating it all up, the perfect picture of love, wealth, and unity. None of them knew the truth. None of them saw how her nails dug into her palm to stop herself from screaming.
When the lights finally dimmed and they entered the ballroom, Aria felt the same suffocation she always did. Chandeliers glowed above like false stars, their light bouncing off golden walls and polished marble floors. Laughter echoed. Waiters moved swiftly, balancing trays of champagne. Women wore gowns worth fortunes; men wore arrogance like crowns.
Sebastian thrived here. This was his world, the world he built with fear and applause. He led Aria through it like she was a trophy on display. Every handshake was calculated. Every smile rehearsed. Every introduction turned her into property.
"And here she is," Sebastian announced to a senator, kissing her cheek theatrically. "My perfect wife."
Perfect. Always perfect.
Aria's fists clenched behind her gown. Perfect wife. Silent wife. Invisible wife.
Her eyes scanned the crowd, and then they stopped.
Him.
Lorenzo Vitale.
He didn't belong in this glittering palace, and that was exactly why he stood out. His black suit was sharp but unpretentious, his collar slightly open. His hair was dark, his presence darker. He didn't smile. He didn't need to. Power rolled off him in quiet waves, enough to make people move out of his way without realizing it. His eyes found hers, steady and stormy, locking her in place.
The ballroom, the chandeliers, the whispers, they all blurred until there was only him.
Her lips parted, her breath caught. She forced herself to look away.
But Sebastian saw it. He saw everything. His jaw ticked, his fingers tightening at her waist.
"Stay away from him," he hissed.
Aria turned her face toward her husband, pretending indifference though her heart pounded. "Why? Afraid he might speak to me?"
"Afraid you might forget who owns you." His words were sharp, possessive.
She swallowed her anger, hiding it under calm composure. "I'm not a possession, Sebastian."
"You're my wife," he snapped, his smile still painted on for the crowd.
Her voice trembled with suppressed rage. "No. I'm your cage's ornament."
Sebastian bent slightly, his lips brushing her ear, his smile wide for anyone watching. "Careful, darling. A cage can always become a coffin."
Her chest tightened at the venom in his words. She wanted to scream. She wanted to shatter every mask in the room. But then, Lorenzo moved.
He cut through the crowd like a shadow with a purpose. Conversations faltered as he passed. Glasses lowered. Even without trying, he commanded attention. He stopped right in front of her, bowing slightly, but his stormy eyes never left hers.
"Mrs. Draven," he drawled, his voice smooth but edged. "You look… wasted in this company."
The air rippled with shock. Gasps broke out. Someone chuckled nervously.
Sebastian stiffened beside her.
Aria's pulse thundered in her ears. She knew she should look away. She knew she should smile and play her role. But something reckless, something alive rose in her chest.
"Perhaps I am," she said softly.
The world stopped.
Sebastian's smile froze, his eyes burning with fury.
"Vitale," he said coldly, his tone like ice. "This is a private event."
Lorenzo raised his glass, taking a slow sip of champagne he hadn't been offered. "Funny. The invitation found me anyway."
Sebastian's shoulders tensed, rage tightening every line of his face. Aria felt a dangerous laugh bubble in her throat. For the first time that night, she felt seen.
Sebastian turned abruptly, dragging her toward the dance floor. "Dance with me."
"No," she said before she could stop herself.
The word cracked through the ballroom like lightning. Heads turned. Whispers rippled.
Sebastian's grip bruised her arm. "Don't test me."
Her chest heaved. She met his cold eyes, refusing to bow. "Then don't parade your mistress in front of me."
Silence slammed down on the room. The orchestra faltered, notes hanging in the air. Guests stared, some wide-eyed, others whispering behind gloved hands.
Sebastian's mask cracked for a single second, fury slicing through. Then he laughed, a sound too sharp, too forced. He pulled her against him, smiling for the crowd. "My wife has had too much champagne," he lied smoothly.
But Aria wasn't finished. Her voice, soft yet carrying enough steel to pierce the marble floor, reached every corner of the hall.
"No, Sebastian. I'm tired of you."
Gasps. A senator's wife nearly dropped her glass. Someone muttered a prayer. Cameras hidden in corners clicked furiously.
Lorenzo's smirk deepened, sharp and approving.
Sebastian's whisper was venom against her ear. "When we get home, you'll regret this."
Her lips barely moved as she whispered back, "Maybe. But tonight, you'll bleed."
And then chaos struck.
The ballroom doors slammed open. A man in black stormed in, gun raised. Screams erupted instantly. Glass shattered. Guests scattered, tripping over gowns and tables.
Sebastian shoved Aria behind him, his mask of arrogance cracking into pure fear for the first time. Security rushed the intruder, tackling him before he could fire. The gun skidded across the floor. Shouts filled the air.
But Aria barely saw any of it.
Because Lorenzo was suddenly beside her. Amidst the chaos, his hand closed firmly around her wrist. Warm. Unyielding.
"Time to choose, Aria," he murmured, his voice low but cutting through the noise like a blade. His eyes burned into hers. "The cage… or the fire?"
Her heart slammed against her ribs. Behind her, Sebastian barked orders at his guards, his hand trying to yank her back.
But Lorenzo's grip was steel.
The chandeliers still burned above. Cameras still flashed even in the madness. The world watched, hungry for blood and scandal.
For the first time in her life, Aria wasn't frozen. She wasn't silent.
She was standing on the edge of war.
And she knew the battle had begun the second she whispered: I'm tired of you.