"Let's see how long it lasts... once I show my cards today."
Celene swiped her phone open, and the picture she had clicked a few minutes earlier loaded instantly. Ivy was standing with some stranger, so close, their silhouettes almost intimately touched.
Celene's lips curled.
Perfect.
She zoomed in, admiring the angle, the implication, the damage it could cause. She locked her phone with a satisfying flick of her thumb.
Inside the car on the other side of town, Damian saw the tiny notification on his phone screen- "Sir, Miss Celene had taken the bait."
He already knew that Celene would. But then too he was a little anxious, as he planned it on the spot.
What if she won't be able to see them together?
But she took the bait.
He suddenly yanked the steering wheel, turning the car so sharply Kairo slammed into the door.
"WHAT THE FUCK!" Kairo shouted, grabbing the steering wheel back. "Are you trying to kill us?!"
Damian didn't even blink. "Turn back."
Kairo stared. "What? Why? We barely left-"
"If we return now," Damian said, voice low and disturbingly calm, "I'll arrive... at the perfect moment."
He leaned back in his seat, eyes dark with satisfaction. "Let her sister play her little trick." His fingers drummed once against the window, "It's all mine from start to end."
Kairo swallowed hard but didn't argue. He turned the car.
Back in the ballroom, Celene walked with the confidence of someone who believed the universe existed for her amusement. She slipped behind the nearest table of champagne flutes, gliding toward the tech booth.
The man in charge of the slideshow glanced up. "Miss, do you need something?"
"Someone is calling you outside," Celene said sweetly. "Your boss, I think. It looked urgent."
The man stiffened. "I-oh, okay. One moment."
As soon as he stepped out, Celene ducked beneath the table and connected her phone to the console. A few taps, a drag and drop, and the picture slid neatly into the prepared slideshow right between the family vacation photo and Ivy's childhood award ceremony.
She whispered under her breath, voice low and venomous, "Let's ruin your perfect little life, my baby sister."
She stepped out, brushing imaginary dust from her dress as she walked away, the picture safely embedded and waiting.
Minutes later, Ivy stood with her friends near the front, smiling nervously as people floated by with congratulations after her wedding announcement. Her fiancé stood beside her, stiff but polite.
The lights dimmed slightly.
Ivy's father stepped onto the stage, tapping the mic with a warm smile. "Everyone please raise your glasses-" he began, pride thick in his voice. "Tonight, we are celebrating my daughter Ivy's return and her engagement announcement to the one and only son of Scott, Blake Scott, which will be held soon."
Glasses lifted.
Camera rose.
People smiled.
The slideshow screens flickered to life behind him. Ivy exhaled, trying to relax.
A baby picture of Ivy, her school performance, posing with her medals, celebrating her sweet sixteen. She felt a soft blush of embarrassment; everyone was looking at her with fondness.
Another slide of her university days, family holidays. People murmured happily.
Then the next slide clicked. And the ballroom froze.
It was her. In the backyard.
A stranger was leaning close, their faces inches apart.
Her expression flushed, startled and his unreadable.
But photographed at just the right angle to look intimate. Too intimate. Dangerously intimate.
The room inhaled as one.
Gasps. Sharp, loud.
Ugly whispers spread instantly.
"Ivy?"
"Who is that man?"
"Oh my god!"
"Is she cheating?"
"She did all this before the engagement announcement-this is shameful."
"Look at how close-"
Her fiancé's jaw clenched so tight, the muscles trembled "Ivy," he hissed under his breath, "what the hell is this?"
Her throat went dry. "I-I don't know. It's not-"
Celene pressed a hand to her mouth theatrically. "Ivy," she whispered loudly, "you never told us you were... seeing someone else?"
The crowd ate it up.
People she had known her whole life stepped back from her, inch by inch, as if she were something contagious. Whispers stabbed into her from all directions.
Her father stared at the screen, confusion and fury mingling. Her mother gripped his arm, already pale. Blake snapped, loud enough for everyone to hear, "You humiliated me here? In front of everyone? For some back-alley trash?"
Ivy flinched as if slapped. Tears flooded her vision.
Her sister fake-whispered to Blake, "Maybe she wanted attention... Don't get angry at her."
Humiliation crawled up Ivy's throat like acid. Her hands shook. Her heart pounded so violently that she could hear nothing else.
And then the ballroom doors slammed open.
Hard.
So hard the sound cracked through the silence like a gunshot.
Damian walked in.
Not rushed. Not guilty. Not nervous.
He walked like someone who belonged there more than anyone else in the room.
Every head turned.
Every whisper died instantly.
His eyes scanned the crowd once coldly, assessing, then locked directly on Ivy.
Her breath caught.
He didn't hesitate. He didn't slow.
He walked straight through the crowd.
Blake stepped in front of her, "Stay the hell away-"
Damian didn't even look at him.
He just stopped inches away, his voice cutting through the room like a blade, "If everyone is done humiliating her over a picture none of you understand..."
The room went silent. Dead silent.
He lifted his chin slightly, gaze sliding to the fiancée with chilling amusement, "... then allow me to clarify a few things."
Blake bristled, "You have no right to."
Celene stepped forward, smiling like a serpent, "Well, Ivy, my baby... inviting your lover to this party? Bold. You have gotten boldly shameless after returning."
Whispers. Heat rising under her skin.
Ivy felt the walls closing in.
And then.
A voice slid through the tension as a blade dipped in ice.
"Well, well, well. As you can see, I'm the man in that photo." Damian's presence took the room, "She doesn't owe anyone an explanation for standing next to me."
Damian didn't raise his voice, but every syllable cut clean. "She met me outside to sign a business proposal. She just wanted to impress the Veiliths and her fiancé."
A beat of stunned silence.
Ivy's stomach dropped.
What document?
I never signed anything.
There was no contract.
Her throat tightened, but no words came out. She stood frozen, trapped between the lie he was crafting and the people already believing it.
Damian continued, eyes sweeping the room as though judging them one by one. "If that five-minute discussion makes me her lover," he said coolly, "then your idea of professionalism is far more scandalous than anything she's done."
The murmurs shifted, some embarrassed, some leaning toward believing him.
Damian tilted his head slightly, gaze sliding to Blake. "Or you're getting angry cause, she tried to excel tonight? Impress you maybe?"
A lethal pause.
"Strange reaction from a future partner."
Blake stiffened, jaw clenching.
Ivy's world spun because Damian wasn't just protecting her. He was arranging the pieces. Moving the board. Making himself look useful, harmless, and trustworthy.
Playing the room.
And dragging her into his lie.
Damian finally turned fully toward her. His eyes found hers.
Dark.
Unreadable.
Pulling her in like gravity.
A look that slid under her skin, wrapped around her ribcage, and held her there. His eyes said things his mouth never would.
I stepped in for you.
I turned the room in your favor.
I protected a secret you never told me you had.
A slow, dangerous promise flickered in his gaze, one that felt like a warning in warmth.
You needed a shield. I became one.
You needed a saving. I did it before you even asked.
Her breath caught.
Because beneath all of it... something darker whispers through that stare, seductive and terrifying in equal measure.
Now you owe me.
And now you know it.
Everyone around them began to move again. Veilith was relieved while Blake hugged Ivy, as a matter of feeling fake guilt.
But Ivy didn't hear or feel any of it.
She was locked in his gaze, in that silent vow he carved straight into her bones.
I can protect you.
And I will.
As long as you keep needing me.
Her heart stumbles, not knowing whether to run from him... or run to him.
And Damian, with the faintest curve of his lips, made sure she didn't know the difference.