Lunch was a quiet, domestic affair, a fragile peace we had carved from the storm. The simple turkey club tasted like a feast, each bite seasoned with the solid, reassuring presence of the man across from me. Kaelen's leg rested against mine under the table, a constant, warm point of contact. Flora moved with discreet efficiency.
We were discussing the board meeting, his voice a low, strategic hum, when the sharp, imperious chime of the doorbell shattered the calm.
Kaelen went still. He wasn't expecting anyone. A glance at Flora, who gave a slight, confirming nod, and she moved to answer it.
From the dining area, we couldn't see the door, but we could hear everything.
"Miss Smith," came Flora's polite, but notably cool, greeting.
"Flora! Is Kaelen in? I've been out of my mind with worry." Bella's voice was a saccharine flood of fabricated concern. "He isn't answering any calls. With the gala tonight, I had to see him. It's an emergency."
Before Flora could form a response, the sharp, confident click of Bella's heels on the marble foyer announced that she had brushed right past her.
"Kaelen, darling, thank God you're—"
Her voice died in her throat as she rounded the corner. Her eyes, wide with performative distress, landed on Kaelen, then swept to me.
The transformation was instantaneous and vicious.
The honeyed mask shattered, revealing the festering rage beneath. Her face contorted.
"You," she spat, the word a venomous dart. The glossy shopping bag in her hand hit the floor with a dull thud. "What is she doing here?"
"Bella." Kaelen's voice was a whip-crack of warning as he rose.
She ignored him, her entire being focused on me. "You couldn't just disappear, could you? You pathetic, clinging little whore. Wow. First Liam, now, his uncle? You're sleeping your way up the family tree now aren't you?"
I stood up, a cold, sharp fury crystallizing within me. "Ms Smith. Mind your language. Liam betrayed me. He is in the past now. Kaelen is my future. A future you were never a part of."
My calm, factual tone was gasoline on the flames of her fury.
"YOU BITCH!" she screamed, the sound raw and ugly. "Do you have any idea what you're destroying?" She whirled on Kaelen. "And you! You're going to throw away everything for this... this nobody? How good must she be in bed? The board will have your head for this!"
In the suffocating silence that followed, Kaelen moved.
I was half expecting him to freeze. Like he did previously.
But it was different this time. He moved. He didn't shout. He didn't advance. He simply placed himself as an immovable shield between Bella and me. The air around him seemed to crackle with a contained, lethal energy.
And then he roared.
"ENOUGH!"
The sound was elemental, a thunderclap of pure authority that shook the room. The crystal glasses on the table chimed. Flora flinched in the doorway.
Bella physically staggered back a step as if struck, all the breath and fury knocked out of her. The raw, unchecked rage in her eyes dissolved, replaced first by shock, and then by a dawning, calculated horror.
She looked from Kaelen's terrifying, impassive face to my resolute one behind him, and then down at her own disheveled state.
And almost immediately, a new mask was donned. The hurt, betrayed woman.
Her shoulders slumped. The fight drained from her posture, replaced by a fragile, wounded demeanor. Her eyes, wide and glistening with manufactured tears, fixed on Kaelen.
"Kaelen…" she whispered. "You're yelling at me? After everything? I'm the one who's been by your side through every battle. I've defended you to my father, to the board—God, even to the press—and this is what I walk in on?" Her voice cracked, tears glinting in her eyes. "How could you? After everything… How could you cheat on me? On something like this no less..."
"Don't you remember? Her photo will Liam, in the garden... She is playing you, Kaelen! Why can't you see!"
She took a shaky breath, looking at him not with anger, but with profound disappointment. "Here I was, defending you to the board, making excuses... I thought we were a team, Kaelen. I thought what we had was real."
She took a step back, her gaze sweeping over us one last time, embedding the scene of the "other woman" in her home into her narrative.
"I won't cause a scene," she said, her voice soft and broken. "Not here. But the board... the public... they will want answers. And so will I."
With the grace of a martyr, she turned and walked slowly toward the foyer, pausing only to give Kaelen a last, lingering look of wounded love before disappearing from view.
The front door clicked shut.
The silence she left behind was thick with the residue of her performance. Kaelen turned to me, his expression grim. He pulled me into his arms, holding me tightly. "I'm sorry," he murmured into my hair. "I'm so sorry you had to hear that."
I buried my face in his chest, shaking, but not from fear. From a burning, clarifying anger. I looked up at him, my voice steady. "Don't be. She's just shown us her true face." I took a deep breath. "I guess now we have a gala to attend."
Three hours later, I was standing before a full-length mirror in Kaelen's penthouse. I barely recognized the person staring back. Kaelen's team did a great job on the makeover. The gown I wore was a liquid cascade of deep azure blue, a colour so rich it seemed to absorb the light. It was backless, plunging to a daring point at the base of my spine, the fabric clinging to every curve before falling in a knife-sharp line to the floor.
My hair was swept up in an intricate but effortless-looking chignon, and at my throat, nestled in the hollow, rested the Vancourt family Sapphires - a stunning, antique necklace of square-cut stones.
When Kaelen appeared behind me, the air seemed to vanish from the room. He was a monochrome symphony of power, but with one devastating detail that made my heart stutter. His tuxedo was flawless black, but his crisp shirt was the same exact, azure blue as my gown. The open collar of his shirt was a rebellion, revealing his strong, tanned throat.
His eyes darkened, sweeping over me from head to toe with a possessiveness that was almost tangible. The memory of our shower, of the way his hands had soaped every inch of this same skin just hours before, hung thick in the air between us. He crossed the room in three long strides, his gaze holding mine captive in the mirror.
"I knew this dress was a mistake," he murmured, his voice a low, gravelly whisper that was for me alone. His hands settled on my waist, his thumbs stroking the material just over my hips. "All I can think about is peeling it off you with my teeth."
As his hands reached slowly up my thigh, I gasped a little and gave him a small push on this chest. "We're gonna be late, Kaelen."
A slow, wicked smile touched his lips, as he gave me a quick peck on my cheek. He stepped back to fully admire the picture we made. Together, we were a statement. A union.
The Vancourt Gala was a pit of vipers. Our limousine door opened to a gauntlet. The flash of cameras was a physical assault. Then, a stunned silence fell over the reporters as they processed the scene.
"Kaelen! Where is Bella Smith?"
"Mr. Vancourt, is Miss Sterling your date?"
"Has the alliance with the Smith family been called off?"
The questions were shouts of pure confusion. Kaelen ignored them all, his hand a firm, possessive anchor on the small of my back as he led me through the chaos without a word, his silence more deafening than any statement.
We breached the ballroom. The wave of silence that followed us was absolute. Every head turned. Every glass stilled. The air grew thick with shock.
And there she was.
Bella, positioned deliberately at the heart of the room, was a statue in shattered ice. Her face was a masterpiece of public betrayal—until her eyes landed on us. On the matching azure. Her mask of grief cracked, revealing a sliver of pure, venomous hatred.
We had taken only a few steps when a figure materialized from the crowd, blocking our path. David. His face was a tight mask of feigned concern, his voice a low, furious hiss meant only for us.
"Kaelen," he seethed, his eyes darting to me with unconcealed contempt. "What in God's name are you doing? Did you forget about the Vision Campaign? Where is Bella?"
David's question—"Where is Bella?"—hung in the air, a lit fuse in the tense space between the brothers.
Kaelen's expression was impassive. "The arrangement with Bella is no longer relevant."
"Not relevant? What do you mean not relevant?" David's voice was a low, furious hiss. "You approved the Vision Campaign yourself! It was only with the Vision Campaign that we had the -"
"You mean you had the Smith's resources?" Kaelen stared straight at his brother, his tone cold.
"I... You... What are you saying?" David was flustered for a split second, but his composure was back almost immediately. "Don't you remember why you approved the Vision Campaign?" He leaned in, his eyes glinting with menace. "Stick to the plan, Kaelen, or I will gather the votes and have you removed as CEO before the week is out. Don't think I can't."
A slow, dangerous smile touched Kaelen's lips. It was the most terrifying expression I had ever seen on him. "Is that so?" he said, his voice deceptively soft. "Then I suggest you take out your phone. Right now. Call them, my dear brother. Call any of them. See if they answer."
David blinked, the absolute, unshakable confidence in Kaelen's tone throwing him completely off balance.
It was in that moment of stunned silence that a new voice, smooth as oil, slithered into our circle.
"Now, now, gentlemen. This is a celebration, not a boardroom."
We all turned. My blood ran cold.
Diana.
My stepmother stood there, a glass of champagne in her hand, a placid smile on her face as if she'd been part of the conversation all along.
"Diana," I breathed, unable to hide my shock.
"Elara, darling," she said, her tone lightly apologetic as she glanced at the men. "David was kind enough to invite me. As a representative of the Sterling Group's interests, you understand. And, well…" She gave a delicate, helpless shrug, her eyes sweeping over me with pitying distaste. "…to keep you in check. We can't risk another scandal with another guy." She turned to David and Kaelen, "Gentlemen, I do apologize for her. Some things are just… cheap, no matter how you try to dress them up. It's so embarrassing for everyone."
She then turned her full attention to Kaelen, her expression one of sincere concern. "Kaelen, you must be rational. It's normal to want to have a young... arm candy. But think of the backlash. That photo of her with Liam, your nephew in the garden… it was all over the society pages. You're the CEO of Vancourt Holdings. You're of a different class. Aligning yourself with that… it makes you look foolish. It makes this entire company look foolish."
She had reframed the narrative perfectly. It was no longer about strategy or alliances, but about Kaelen's compromised judgment and my inherent, tasteless nature. The betrayal was so profound I felt rooted to the spot. I couldn't believe I didn't see this in her in my past life. The woman I respected and loved as my own blood, my mother. Although I've seen what she's capable of, I still couldn't help but feel a stab in my heart.
Kaelen's posture shifted. He didn't look at me; he didn't need to. I felt his focus sharpen into a razor point aimed at Diana.
"The only embarrassment here," he said, his voice dropping to a quiet, deadly register that demanded silence, "is your presence. You do not speak for Elara. You do not speak for the Sterling Group. And you will never again speak about her in my presence."
He didn't raise his voice, but the command in it was absolute.