Elena
The next morning arrived with an extreme amount of brightness, sunlight streamed through the wide glass windows as though they were trying to mock me. I sat at the edge of the bed, my phone buzzing with an endless stream of notifications I dared not open. My face was already splashed across gossip columns, my name tied to his. 'Elena Hart, the lucky woman who had captured Alexander Kane', one read. If only they knew.
"Get dressed," his voice came from the doorway, sharp as always, like he had been waiting for me to drag myself out of bed. He was in another one of his immaculately tailored suits, dark and fitted, as though the world itself bent to his elegance.
"For what?" I asked, my tone flat.
His gaze pinned me, unreadable as ever. "The press are expecting us. We make our first appearance together today."
My throat went dry. A public unveiling as if it wasn't enough that the whole world knew from all the papers. The very thing I dreaded. My instincts screamed to refuse, but his expression left no room for argument. This wasn't a request, it was another one of his instructions that only had to be obeyed.
The car ride was suffocating. He sat beside me, scrolling through his phone with calculated indifference, while I pressed my hands tightly together in my lap to hide their trembling. The driver pulled up in front of a grand hotel, its entrance buzzing with flashing cameras and reporters shouting questions. My stomach twisted.
"This isn't optional, Elena," he murmured as he stepped out, the crowd erupting the instant they saw him. "Smile, or you'll regret it."
He extended his hand. My pulse thundered, but I placed my palm in his, stepping out into the storm of cameras. The air filled with the clamor of voices.
"Mr. Kane, is it true you're engaged?"
"Elena, how long have you two been dating?"
"Is this sudden romance a publicity stunt?"
I kept my face carefully composed, though inside I wanted to scream. Alexander wrapped an arm around my waist, pulling me close as though I were something precious. His grip, however, was iron. "We're very happy," he said smoothly, his voice carrying over the chaos. He was obviously good at posing for the camera.
"My fiancée and I are grateful for your support."
His words landed like chains around my neck. I forced a polite smile, my cheeks burning under the scrutiny of a hundred lenses. At that moment, I was slowly starting to understand, this was no longer just a deal. He was branding me, tying me to him in the eyes of the world.
Inside the hotel ballroom, things were quieter, though the tension coiled even tighter. Influential figures mingled in designer suits and glittering dresses, their eyes turning toward us with thinly veiled curiosity. I could hear the whispers and I could feel the weight of their stares. Elena Hart, brought from nowhere into the spotlight. The mysterious fiancée. The pawn.
The names were numerous and extremely creative.
I stood by his side, sipping champagne I couldn't taste because of how numb I felt, while he spoke with associates, perfectly composed. My mind raced. Every smile I forced felt like a crack in my soul. I couldn't stop thinking about the photographs I had found the night before, the proof of his manipulation. How many more layers of this web existed? And how long until I was completely entangled?
"Elena?" a voice, low and achingly familiar, froze me in place.
I turned, the glass nearly slipping from my hand. My breath caught. Daniel. My Daniel, or rather, the man who used to be. He stood there in a crisp navy suit, his dark eyes filled with a storm of emotions, one which was surprising. My chest constricted painfully.
"Elena, I…" He stopped, his gaze flicking to Alexander, who had already shifted his attention toward us, and his gaze is anything but soft. The atmosphere dropped several degrees.
"Daniel," Alexander said, his tone deceptively calm. "I didn't expect to see you here."
Daniel's jaw tightened. "And I didn't expect to find Elena paraded around like…" He bit back the words, but the fury in his voice was unmistakable.
My pulse hammered as Alexander's hand tightened on my waist, his smile all ice. "Careful," he murmured, though his eyes never left Daniel. "You're speaking about my fiancée."
The word fiancée echoed like a curse. Daniel's gaze snapped to mine, searching and demanding answers I couldn't give. Heat rose in my cheeks, shame and desperation tangling in my chest. My lips parted, but no sound came.
Alexander, of course, seized the silence. "You look surprised," he said smoothly. "Did Elena not tell you? We've been inseparable."
Daniel's fists clenched at his sides. "You think this charade will hold?" His eyes burned into mine. "Elena, tell me you actually want this."
My heart lurched violently. The room seemed to spin, every pair of eyes suddenly locked on me. I felt exposed, trapped between two storms, one from the man who had abandoned me when I needed him most, the other from the man who had shackled me to his empire. My throat closed, but before I could even attempt an answer, Alexander's voice sliced through the tension.
"She doesn't owe you anything." His words were calm, but the steel beneath them was unmistakable. "Elena made her choice."
My choice. The audacity of it almost made me laugh. This wasn't my choice, it was his trap, his orchestration. But as I glanced at Daniel's face, hurt and disbelief flickering in his eyes, I realized Alexander had achieved exactly what he wanted, he had severed me from my past in one public, undeniable stroke.
I forced myself to breathe, to keep standing despite the weight pressing down on me. I couldn't crumble here, not with the world watching. Not when Alexander thrived on control. My nails bit into my palm as I summoned a smile, brittle and hollow. "It's true," I said softly, the words tasting like poison. "I'm with him."
Daniel's expression crumpled, fury and heartbreak warring in his features before he turned and walked away without another word. The sound of his footsteps retreating echoed in my skull long after he was gone.
Alexander's hand loosened around my waist, his voice low enough for only me to hear. "That," he murmured, satisfaction curling around each syllable, "was perfect."
Perfect. My entire world tilted on its axis, and all I could do was smile for the cameras as the walls of the ballroom closed in. But inside, beneath the brittle facade, a fire was beginning to burn. He thought he had broken me. He thought I was his.
He had no idea.