The Grand Celestial Hotel ballroom was breathtaking.
Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling like frozen waterfalls. Tables were decorated with white roses and gold accents. A string quartet played soft music in the corner. Everywhere Avery looked, she saw designer gowns, expensive jewelry, and the kind of wealth that made her bakery seem like a child's lemonade stand.
"Smile," Rohan whispered in her ear as cameras flashed. "We're the perfect couple, remember?"
Avery plastered on a smile and took his offered arm. They walked into the ballroom like royalty.
Immediately, people swarmed them. Board members wanting to congratulate Rohan on his upcoming inheritance. Socialites wanting to meet the mysterious Mrs. Rathore. Business partners offering deals and partnerships.
Avery's head spun trying to remember names and faces.
"Mrs. Rathore, what a pleasure!" A woman in a silver dress appeared, her smile not reaching her cold blue eyes. "I'm Victoria Chen, head of the Rathore Industries PR department. We haven't had a chance to meet yet."
"Nice to meet you," Avery said politely.
"I must say, your story is quite... unconventional. A Vegas wedding? How romantic." Victoria's tone suggested it was anything but romantic. "Though I'm sure the media will have questions about the timeline. Marrying so quickly after Rohan's grandfather changed his will seems rather convenient, doesn't it?"
"Victoria," Rohan's voice was ice. "My personal life is not PR material."
"Of course not, Mr. Rathore. I'm simply preparing for potential questions." Victoria smiled sweetly and walked away.
"Friend of yours?" Avery asked dryly.
"She works for Arjun. Has for years. Anything you say to her goes straight back to him."
"Good to know." Avery scanned the room. "Speaking of Arjun, where is he?"
"Not here yet. Marcus has eyes on all entrances. The moment he arrives, we'll know."
They made their way through the crowd. Rohan introduced her to board members—Mr. Patterson, Mrs. Liu, Dr. Reeves. All of them would vote on his inheritance in three days.
"Your wife is charming," Mrs. Liu said warmly. "My daughter owns a bakery in Portland. You two should connect."
"I'd love that," Avery said genuinely.
"It's refreshing to see Rohan with someone so... real," Dr. Reeves added. "His previous companions were rather... plastic."
Rohan squeezed Avery's hand. For a moment, she almost forgot this had started as fake. The way he looked at her, the way he stayed close, the way he introduced her with pride—it all felt real.
Maybe too real.
"Excuse me for a moment," a voice said behind them. "I need to borrow my son."
Meera appeared, looking elegant in a deep purple saree. She pulled Rohan aside, leaving Avery with Dr. Reeves and Mrs. Liu.
"So, Mrs. Rathore," Mrs. Liu said with interest. "How did you really meet Rohan?"
Before Avery could answer, the lights dimmed slightly. A spotlight hit the stage where a podium had been set up.
And there he was.
Arjun Rathore, walking onto the stage like he owned the place. He was wearing a midnight blue tuxedo, his hair perfectly styled, his smile charming and dangerous.
He looked nothing like a man who'd tried to commit murder two days ago.
"Good evening, everyone," Arjun's voice boomed through the microphone. "Thank you all for attending our annual Rathore Industries charity gala. Tonight, we're raising funds for children's hospitals across the state."
The crowd applauded politely.
Rohan returned to Avery's side, his entire body tense. "What is he doing?"
"As many of you know," Arjun continued, "our family has been through some changes recently. My grandfather's health has been declining, and succession planning has been... complicated."
Murmurs rippled through the crowd.
"But tonight isn't about business. It's about charity. It's about giving back. So I'd like to start our auction with a personal donation—half a million dollars to Seattle Children's Hospital."
More applause. Louder this time.
"And I'd like to challenge my dear cousin Rohan to match it. After all, he'll soon be controlling the company. He should show everyone how generous he can be."
All eyes turned to Rohan.
Avery felt him stiffen beside her. This was a trap. If he refused, he'd look petty and cheap in front of the entire board. If he accepted, Arjun would just keep raising the stakes.
"One million," Rohan called out clearly.
Gasps. Applause.
Arjun's smile widened, but his eyes were cold. "How generous! I'll raise to two million."
"Five million," Rohan countered immediately.
The room went silent.
Arjun's mask slipped for just a second, showing rage underneath. Then he smiled again. "Ten million. For the children, of course."
Rohan opened his mouth, but Avery squeezed his hand. She could see what Arjun was doing—trying to make Rohan look reckless with company money.
"Actually," Avery spoke up, her voice carrying across the silent ballroom, "my husband and I would like to donate fifteen million. But not just to one hospital. To five different children's hospitals across Washington State. Three million each. Because charity shouldn't be a competition, Mr. Arjun. It should be about actually helping people."
The room erupted in applause.
Arjun's face turned red. He'd been outmaneuvered and everyone knew it.
"How touching," Arjun said through gritted teeth. "The baker's daughter teaching us about charity. I'm sure your little bakery did so much charitable work before it... burned down."
The crowd gasped at the cruelty.
Avery felt Rohan move forward, but she stopped him. "Yes, it did actually. Every Saturday, we donated leftover bread to homeless shelters. Every morning, we gave free coffee to veterans. Every Christmas, we made cookies for foster kids. We may not have had billions, Mr. Arjun, but we had heart. Something money clearly can't buy."
The applause was deafening.
Arjun stepped off the stage, his façade cracking. As he passed them, he whispered so only they could hear, "You'll regret that, little baker. Both of you."
Then he disappeared into the crowd.
Marcus appeared at Rohan's elbow. "Sir, we have a problem. Someone just cut the power to our surveillance system. We're blind."
Rohan's face went pale. "Evacuation protocol—"
Suddenly, all the lights went out.
The ballroom plunged into darkness.
Women screamed. Glass shattered somewhere.
And in the chaos, Avery felt a hand grab her arm. Not Rohan's hand. Someone else's.
A voice whispered in her ear, cold and menacing, "Time to pay up, Mrs. Rathore."
Then something sharp pressed against her back.
A knife.
"Make a sound and I'll kill everyone in this room," the voice hissed. "Starting with your precious husband. Now walk."