Ethan POV
I was irritated—no, beyond that. The way she kept following me like a lost lamb was getting under my skin. I didn't ask her to stick close. This was a business ball, not some pity show. And yet, every time I glanced over my shoulder, Ember was there—wide-eyed, nervous, clutching her dress like it was her only shield.
The situation turned more annoying when Veronica walked in… with Lucifer Chase on her arm.
All eyes shifted immediately.
The story is set in a modern, high-society backdrop filled with luxury, media scandals, elite universities, and powerful business empires. From grand ballrooms and lavish parties to cold marble mansions and silent penthouse suites, the setting reflects the emotional coldness and class divide between the characters. Ember comes from a humble background, raised by elderly foster parents and educated through a scholarship, while Ethan belongs to a world of power, wealth, and control. The contrast between Ember's simple world and Ethan's intimidating empire intensifies the emotional tension, creating a dramatic stage where love, manipulation, revenge, and redemption unfold.
Of course they did.
The media, the guests—they always adored the golden couple. My ex-fiancée and her newly announced arm candy. Veronica was dressed like a queen, flawless, poised, and yet her eyes… they kept flicking to me. Testing me. Measuring my reaction. Like she expected me to snap.
I clenched my jaw.
Hard.
She was good at that—getting under my skin without a word. But I refused to give her the satisfaction.
The host's voice echoed through the lavish ballroom, slicing through the hum of conversation and clinking glasses.
"We have two newly introduced couples tonight. Let's welcome them to the dance floor."
Applause followed.
My jaw tightened.
I didn't wait.
I grabbed Ember's wrist, maybe too harshly, but I didn't care. I could feel her flinch—but I was already dragging her toward the spotlight. My emotions were a mess, and she just happened to be in the storm's path.
We stepped onto the marble floor as the lights dimmed, soft classical music beginning to play. Just beside us, Veronica and Lucifer floated forward like they were made for each other. Perfect. Charming. Golden.
They looked like the cover of a royal magazine.
It made my blood boil.
I danced with her softly and gently—every move deliberate, every glance timed—to make sure Veronica saw. And she was watching.
Her hand on Lucifer's arm had tightened, her smile cracking just slightly—only someone who knew her as well as I did would notice. But I noticed. And I wanted more.
So the next thing I did… even surprised me.
I guided Ember toward one of the ornate pillars, shielding us from most of the crowd, but not from Veronica. Gently, I placed her against the wall, my hands braced on either side of her head. Her breath hitched, her chest rising with uncertainty.
Then, slowly, I tilted her face toward mine with one hand. Her eyes widened, her lashes fluttering—like a trapped bird unsure whether to fly or freeze.
And then I kissed her.
Not soft. Not hesitant.
I kissed her like we were a real couple madly in love, like I couldn't wait to taste her again. Her lips didn't move at first—frozen—but I didn't stop. I deepened the kiss, letting my hand slide to the back of her neck, guiding her closer.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw it—Veronica's expression cracked. Anger. Hurt. Jealousy. Just what I wanted.
I pulled back just a little, my breath brushing Ember's lips, and whispered low enough only she could hear.
"Reciprocate… whatever I'm doing, leech. Make it believable."
Then I smiled sweetly at a curious onlooker like this was all a fairy tale.
I continued kissing her—violently now. Not out of passion, but out of pure defiance. I could taste the iron-tinge of blood where our teeth had clashed, but I didn't stop. My grip on her waist was firm, my body blocking the view of anyone too nosy to look too close.
I saw her hands twitch—tightening into fists, trembling slightly against my chest. She was in pain. I knew it. Hell, I could feel it in the way her shoulders locked, the way her body flinched for a millisecond.
But her face… not a single crack.
When I finally pulled back, she didn't collapse or cry or even wince. Instead, she smiled sweetly at me. That infuriating, practiced smile of someone who refused to let the world see them break.
Then—calmly, deliberately—she turned her head and gave the same smile to Veronica.