Chapter 5 - The child I told her to abort

FIVE YEARS LATER

-CASSIAN HALE-

The mirror never lies.

That’s what I’ve told myself every morning for the last five years. Perfect suit. Perfect hair. Perfect man. If the reflection ever hinted at cracks, I never stayed long enough to see them.

Tonight, I don’t just dress for myself. Tonight, the world is watching.

The Hale Corp Gala isn’t just another display of wealth, it’s my stage. Every senator, every CEO, every vulture worth knowing has gathered here. But beneath the chandeliers and champagne, there’s one reason this night matters more than any other.

The Halentis.

The world’s most untouchable couple. Their empire stretches from Milan to Dubai to the States. In the press, they’re flawless: Tristan Halenti, the brilliant strategist, and his mysterious wife,the woman who never gives interviews, who appears only when it suits her. No one knows her name. No one dares to ask.

I’ve been waiting to see them with my own eyes. To measure them. To dissect them. To know whether this elusive woman is the key to the power I crave,or the threat I fear.

All this… this whole party… was made for them.

Scarlett hovers at my side, a living weapon of charm and deception. Dressed to kill, whispering reminders about donors, alliances, subtle manipulations. I barely hear her. My focus is already on the double doors.

“Scarlett,” I say, my voice cutting through her chatter. “Remember. Befriend the wife. It will do us good.” She nods, eyes bright, taking my words seriously. I adjust my collar one more time, the weight of anticipation pressing down.

Then it happens.

The crowd shifts. Conversations falter. A ripple of tension moves through the ballroom like water pushed by an unseen hand.

“They’re here,” someone whispers.

“The Halentis.”

The doors swing open, and in that moment, the room bends toward them like gravity itself.

Tristan steps in first.

Wait. He’s the same Tristan. Taller than I remember. Sharper. The last time I saw him was years ago, across a negotiation table that ended in bloodless war. I remember his piercing gaze, the fire in his stare. I thought he’d vanished. But here he is,alive, untouchable, impossible to ignore.

The murmurs sharpen:

“That’s Tristan Halenti? He hasn’t aged a day.”

“He’s dangerous. Entire markets collapse at his word.”

And beside him…

Her.

The air leaves my chest.

It couldn’t be. The first time I tried to visit her in prison, I heard she was already dead. But here she was,alive, radiant, untouchable.

Liana.

Draped in midnight silk, her brown-turned-black hair catching the chandelier light like molten obsidian, her figure commanding every gaze in the room. She moved with grace, poise, power,every inch the woman I once thought broken. Standing at Tristan Halenti’s side, she seemed untouchable.

How? How did she survive? How did she become… this?

The murmurs follow them like a tide:

“His wife is breathtaking.”

“No one knows her name,she never speaks to the press.”

“She makes Scarlett look like a secretary.”

Every word cuts. My gala, my empire, my stage… and yet tonight, it’s them the crowd bows to. Not me. Them.

I force my lips into a practiced smile. Voice smooth. Controlled. Perfect host.

“Mr. and Mrs. Halenti. Welcome. This evening is in your honor.”

Tristan’s eyes flicker with recognition, sharp and calculating. Liana’s linger on mine a moment too long, unreadable. To anyone else, she is elegance incarnate. To me, she is a ghost come back to life, a knife twisted between my ribs.

I wait for any emotion to show, a crack, a hint of the girl I once knew. But she stares at me like I’m a stranger.

W-was she not Liana?

Before I can gather myself, it happens.

A child breaks free from the throng, darting across polished marble, laughter cutting through the tense silence.

“Mummy! Daddy!”

The boy barrels into her arms. She kneels smoothly, silk spilling around her as she catches him, kissing his forehead with tenderness that twists something deep inside me.

The crowd sighs, enchanted.

“They’re perfect.”

“Even their child looks like a prince.”

But I see what they don’t.

The boy looks up. And I freeze.

Gray eyes. My gray eyes. Staring at me from a face I’ve never seen but already know.

The glass in my hand trembles violently. My fingers whiten around it. My chest tightens, lungs burning. Pulse thunders. Every breath shallow, every heartbeat screaming.

No. Impossible.

But the truth is undeniable.

He’s mine.

The same child I told her to abort years ago.