Part 5 – Refusal
The air was suffocating.
Dozens of faces leaned in from every corner of the ballroom, waiting for her next breath, her next word, as though her life were a performance staged for their amusement.
Her lips parted, her pulse pounding. She could feel her father's trembling grip urging her forward, her mother's nails digging into her arm, Damian's steel-gray eyes cutting through her like a blade.
"Say it," her father begged under his breath. "Say yes."
Damian stood tall before her, unmoving, certain of his victory. "Choose, Miss White."
And she did.
Her voice rang out, fragile but clear:
"No."
Gasps split the silence like lightning. The word sliced through the hall, impossible to take back, impossible to ignore.
Damian's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly, a flicker of something dangerous flashing across his face. But the rest of him remained composed, unreadable, as if he had expected her rebellion.
"You dare—?" her mother choked, aghast.
"I dare," Aria said, louder now, her voice trembling but rising with every syllable. "I will not be passed around like some contract to be signed. Not by Ethan. And not by you, Mr. Blackwood."
The crowd erupted into scandalized whispers. Some admired her courage, others smirked at her naivety, but all of them leaned closer, hungry for the downfall.
Damian stepped forward, and the whispers died as though silenced by a hand at their throats. He towered over her, gaze burning with a heat that made her knees quake, though she stood her ground.
"Careful, Miss White," he murmured, his voice a low warning. "You're standing on the edge of a cliff, and pride will not keep you from the fall."
Her throat constricted, but she lifted her chin defiantly. "Better to fall with pride than live on my knees."
For the first time, Damian's smirk curved, sharp and lethal. A spark of something—admiration, maybe—flashed in his eyes. But it was gone in a heartbeat, replaced by ice.
"Very well," he said smoothly, turning from her to the room at large. "Let the world bear witness. Aria White has chosen disgrace."
Her heart lurched at the finality in his tone.
The crowd buzzed like a hive stirred with a stick, whispers louder, crueler now. Disgrace. Ruined. Finished.
Damian didn't glance back as he strode toward the doors, his voice trailing like a blade over silk.
"You may refuse me today, Miss White," he said, not turning his head. "But tomorrow… you will beg me."
The doors slammed shut behind him, and the echo reverberated through Aria's bones.
Her father collapsed into a chair, face pale with devastation. Her mother covered her mouth to hide a sob. The guests began to disperse, their whispers and laughter lingering like knives in Aria's skin.
She stood there, her gown heavy, her bouquet crushed to ruin, trembling from head to toe.
She had chosen.
She had refused Damian Blackwood.
And deep in her gut, she knew she had just declared war against the one man she could never afford to defy.