The Grand Orchid Gala.
Every year, it was the playground of the rich, the rotten, and the power-hungry. Silk gowns, crystal chandeliers, champagne glasses overflowing with secrets.
Arielle stood at the top of the staircase, her arm laced around Lucien Blackwood's.
The world stilled.
She wore a midnight-black gown, smooth as oil, clinging to every curve with deadly grace. Her hair swept up in a diamond-pinned crown. Red lips. Cold eyes. Not a single trace of the fragile girl society once pitied.
Lucien stood beside her in a black tux, sleek and powerful, his silver cufflinks gleaming under the lights. He didn't smile, but he didn't need to. The aura of danger around him was enough.
Together, they looked untouchable.
"Is that... Arielle Monroe?"
"She's changed."
"Since when did she become Blackwood's fiancée?!"
"She was supposed to marry Ethan—"
The whispers chased them like perfume, but Arielle didn't flinch. She walked down the marble steps with the same grace she once watched others carry.
Now she was the spectacle.
Let them talk. She wanted their voices to shake. She wanted their hearts to freeze when they saw her alive, glowing, powerful.
Lucien leaned closer as they reached the ballroom floor.
"You enjoy this," he murmured.
"I enjoy watching them drown in their own shock," she whispered back.
He smirked. "Careful. I might fall for that mouth."
She tilted her head. "Try and keep up, Mr. Blackwood."
....
They barely had time to grab champagne before the first snake slithered over.
"Lucien," Ethan Lancaster greeted, all smiles and fake charm. He wore a pale blue suit and tried to mask his nervousness with confidence.
"Ethan," Lucien returned flatly. "Didn't expect to see you here. I assumed you'd be licking your wounds."
Ethan chuckled awkwardly.
His eyes flickered to Arielle, and for a second—just a second—his mask cracked.
She watched the flicker of realization pass over his face. He thought he'd buried her. Thought she'd crawl away in shame.
Instead, she stood in front of him with diamonds on her ears and the devil on her arm.
"Hello, Ethan," she said smoothly. "Miss me?"
He cleared his throat. "You look... different."
Arielle sipped her champagne. "We all change, don't we? Some of us for the better. Some for the bitter."
Ethan's jaw clenched.
"Oh! Camille is here too," he added quickly, like he needed a weapon.
Arielle's brows lifted just slightly.
Of course she is.
And like clockwork, Camille made her entrance, dressed in red silk that hugged her body like sin. Her lips curled when she saw Arielle.
She walked over slowly, making sure all eyes stayed on her.
"Sister," she cooed, kissing the air beside Arielle's cheek. "You look... stronger. I guess heartbreak builds character."
Arielle smiled slow, cold, and regal.
"No heartbreak here. Just evolution."
Lucien chuckled under his breath. He was enjoying this far too much.
Camille turned to him with a sweet smile. "Lucien, is it true? You and Arielle are engaged? That's so... sudden."
Lucien wrapped an arm around Arielle's waist, his voice lazy and cool.
"What's sudden about recognizing a rare jewel when you see one?"
Arielle's lips twitched. He was good at this.
Camille's face stiffened.
"I always thought Ethan and Arielle made a beautiful couple," she said, her voice too sugary. "What a shame things ended... so publicly."
"Oh, we didn't end," Arielle said calmly. "We just expired."
She looked straight into Ethan's eyes and added, "Some things rot when you leave them out in the open too long."
Gasps echoed.
Someone coughed into their drink.
Lucien raised his glass. "To expired love and upgraded taste."
The laughter that followed had Ethan red in the face. Camille fumed.
Arielle? She sipped her champagne like it was blood.
Later That Night
The gala faded into a blur of music, lights, and whispers.
Back at the penthouse, Arielle peeled off her earrings, her back to Lucien. Her reflection in the vanity was calm, but her hands were trembling slightly.
Lucien walked in, loosened his tie, and leaned against the wall.
"You were ruthless," he said.
"I was honest."
"Same thing."
Arielle sighed and finally turned. "I used to cry in my room after parties like that. When they mocked me. Laughed behind their glasses. My father told me to smile and endure."
"And now?"
She met his eyes. "Now I smile while holding the blade."
Lucien walked closer, stopping just behind her.
"You have a storm in you, Arielle."
"I've learned to keep it silent."
"Don't," he murmured. "Let it burn. I like fire."
Her breath caught.
Their eyes locked in the mirror. The space between them pulsed with tension.
He reached out slowly tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
"You're not what I expected," he said softly.
"Good," Arielle replied. "I'd hate to be predictable."