5

"You expect me to walk into that gala and pretend I belong?"

Ava folded her arms, staring at Alexander with barely concealed skepticism. The flickering lights of the penthouse cast soft shadows across the room, yet all she felt was the weight of uncertainty.

He barely looked up from his cufflinks, adjusting them with meticulous precision. "You do belong."

She let out a short, bitter laugh, the sound tinged with disbelief. "I was a nobody a few weeks ago. Now I’m supposed to stand next to you, smile for the cameras, and act like I’ve been part of this world my entire life?"

Alexander finally met her gaze, his expression unreadable yet intense. "You need to stop seeing yourself as an outsider."

Her jaw tightened. "And if I can’t?"

He took a step closer, the air between them charged with undeniable tension. "Then I’ll make them see you the way I do."

Her stomach twisted at the implication. He always spoke like that—statements laced with quiet authority, as if his words alone could bend reality.

She hated how much she almost believed him.

The gala was a shimmering illusion of perfection.

Crystal chandeliers bathed the grand ballroom in golden light, and the air buzzed with conversations wrapped in polite laughter and veiled competition. The laughter echoed off the marble floors, creating an atmosphere thick with ambition and glamour.

Ava moved through the crowd, conscious of every gaze that lingered too long. Some were curious, others scrutinizing, assessing whether she was an asset or a liability. And then, of course, there were those waiting for her to fail.

"Well, isn’t this a surprise?"

The voice sent an immediate chill down her spine, and she turned slowly, already bracing herself.

Logan stood before her, a smirk tugging at his lips. His new fiancée, Sophia, clung to his arm, her eyes gleaming with poorly disguised amusement.

"You clean up well," Sophia mused, scanning her from head to toe. "Almost convincing."

Ava forced herself to smile, though it felt like a mask over her true feelings. "And you still talk like someone desperate to prove they matter."

Sophia’s expression darkened, but Logan chuckled, his confidence unwavering. "Easy there, Ava. No need to be defensive. We’re just… surprised." His gaze flickered to the diamonds at her wrist, and a cruel smirk tugged at his mouth. "Didn’t think you’d land on your feet this well."

Ava tilted her head, her voice steady. "And yet, here I am. Not just standing—thriving."

Logan’s jaw twitched, a flicker of irritation crossing his features, but before he could respond, a firm hand settled on the small of her back.

"Something wrong?"

Alexander’s presence was immediate, like a protective barrier. The conversation halted as his sharp gaze swept over Logan and Sophia, his posture effortlessly commanding.

Logan recovered quickly, attempting to regain control of the situation. "Not at all. Just catching up."

Alexander smiled, but it was a precise, dangerous thing. "Strange. It didn’t look like catching up. It looked like a desperate attempt to diminish my wife."

Sophia let out a breathy laugh, trying to deflect the tension. "Oh, we wouldn’t dare."

"Good." His voice remained pleasant, but his eyes—his eyes promised something else entirely. "Because I don’t tolerate people who try to make her feel small."

Silence stretched between them, a taut line of unspoken words and suppressed emotions.

Logan was the first to break, clearing his throat. "We should go."

Sophia hesitated, but under Alexander’s unwavering stare, she relented. They disappeared into the crowd, leaving Ava to exhale, tension still coiled in her spine.

"That was unnecessary," she said, trying to maintain her composure.

Alexander turned to her, his expression calm yet intense. "Was it?"

She looked away, caught in a whirlwind of confusion.

She wanted to argue, to insist she didn’t need his interference. But the truth was, for the first time in a long time, she hadn’t felt powerless.

The night stretched on, filled with empty pleasantries and champagne that tasted like wealth. Each clink of glasses, each forced smile, felt like a reminder of the world she was trying to navigate—a world that felt foreign yet oddly exhilarating.

By the time they returned to the penthouse, Ava’s heels ached, and her patience was threadbare. She kicked off her shoes, sinking onto the edge of the bed with a relieved sigh. "Remind me why people enjoy these events?"

Alexander loosened his tie, watching her with quiet amusement. "They don’t. They enjoy the power that comes with them."

Ava scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Well, that makes me feel better."

She fell back against the pillows, exhaustion seeping into her bones. The lights of the city twinkled outside their window, beautiful yet distant. Alexander disappeared into the bathroom, the sound of running water filling the space, and Ava closed her eyes, letting the events of the night replay in her mind.

Her eyelids grew heavy, fatigue weighing her down.

Just as sleep began to pull her under—

"Eve."

The whisper was barely audible. Soft. Familiar.

She blinked, her body suddenly rigid, an electric pulse racing up her spine.

Alexander lay beside her, half-asleep, his breathing even, but the sound of her name felt like a bolt of electricity.

"Eve," he murmured again, the name slipping from his lips with an intimacy that sent a shiver down her spine.

But it wasn’t just the name.

It was the way he said it.

A childhood nickname. One she hadn’t heard in years.

Her pulse pounded in her ears, memories flooding back—innocent times when she was simply Ava, the girl with dreams and aspirations, untainted by betrayal and loss.

She sat up slowly, staring down at him. "How do you know that name?"

Alexander opened his eyes, a flicker of surprise crossing his face before he settled back into a calm, inscrutable expression. "You mentioned it once, in passing."

Ava shook her head, incredulous. "No, I didn’t. I haven’t used that name in years." A wave of nostalgia washed over her, accompanied by an undercurrent of pain. "Only my family called me that."

He propped himself up on one elbow, studying her with an intensity that made her heart race. "And yet, it stuck with me."

The admission hung in the air, thick with unspoken emotions. "Why?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

He hesitated, as if weighing his words carefully. "Because I saw a spark in you, even then. You were full of life, full of dreams."

"That was a long time ago," she replied, her voice sharpening. "Before everything fell apart."

Alexander’s expression softened, and for a brief moment, vulnerability flickered in his eyes. "We all have a past, Eve. Yours doesn’t have to define your future."

Ava let out a shaky breath, her heart torn between longing and fear. "You don’t know what I’ve been through.”

"You’re right," he admitted, his voice earnest. "But I see the woman you’ve become. Stronger, smarter. You’re not that girl anymore, and you don’t have to be."

The sincerity in his words stirred something deep within her—a flicker of hope mingled with the weight of her past.

As days turned into weeks, Ava found herself unraveling the layers of her own identity. The gala was no longer just an event; it became a catalyst for her transformation. With each appearance beside Alexander, she felt the remnants of her old self fading, replaced by an emerging confidence she hadn’t known she possessed.

She began to embrace her new life, attending charity events, participating in meetings, and engaging with people who had once felt far beyond her reach. Yet, the memories of her past lingered, haunting her at unexpected moments.

One afternoon, as she was organizing files in the penthouse office, her phone buzzed with an incoming message. The name flashing on the screen sent a wave of anxiety crashing over her—Logan.

"We need to talk."

The message felt like a dagger twisting in her gut. She had been doing so well, moving forward, and now here was a reminder of everything she had left behind.

Alexander entered the room, sensing her distress. "Everything okay?"

Ava hesitated, her heart racing as she glanced at her phone. "It’s Logan."

His expression darkened. "What does he want?"

She bit her lip, debating whether to respond or ignore it altogether. "I don’t know. He just said we need to talk."

Alexander stepped closer, his demeanor shifting from casual to protective. "You don’t have to engage with him if you don’t want to.”