The Gala & The Green-Eyed Ghost

The Grand Crystal Ballroom of the Imperial Hotel was glowing with blinding gold light. Crystal chandeliers hung from the high ceilings, sparkling like frozen stars over the city’s richest families.

The room was packed with wealthy businessmen in tailored suits and spoiled socialite daughters dripping in designer diamonds. Classical music played softly in the background while waiters in crisp white gloves carried silver trays of vintage champagne.

Tonight was the city’s prestigious Annual Welcome Gala—the most exclusive party of the year.

Near the grand marble entrance, the crowd suddenly parted. A collective murmur of shock and curiosity swept through the room.

Robin Sinclair walked in.

She wore a simple, floor-length gown of pitch-black silk. It was completely backless, hugging the smooth, slender curve of her waist before falling gracefully to the polished floor. She wore no loud jewelry, no gaudy accessories, and no heavy makeup. Yet, her porcelain skin glowed under the chandeliers, and her long, dark hair fell down her bare back like liquid obsidian.

Her striking, crystal-clear emerald green eyes swept over the room with effortless, icy indifference. Every high-heeled step she took in her four-inch stilettos sounded like a quiet, dangerous drumbeat.

Men stopped talking mid-sentence to stare at her. Women gripped their champagne glasses tightly, their eyes burning with instant jealousy.

Across the room, standing near the towering champagne fountain, Nicole Sinclair froze.

Nicole was dressed in an overly flashy, ruffled pink gown covered in thousands of tiny Swarovski crystals. Thick diamond necklaces hung heavily around her neck, and matching rings crowded her manicured fingers. She looked like a Christmas tree trying desperately to scream wealth. Standing right beside her was Dane, dressed in a custom navy tuxedo, holding a glass of expensive red wine with an arrogant smirk.

The moment Nicole saw Robin, her face twisted into ugly, vicious disgust.

"Dane... look," Nicole hissed, digging her sharp nails into Dane’s forearm. "Is that... Robin? That filth is actually back?"

Dane turned his head. For a split second, his eyes went wide with pure hunger. The girl he remembered had been quiet, plain, and timid. But the woman standing before him tonight was breathtaking, dangerous, and impossibly gorgeous.

Then, his arrogant pride took over.

"She must have crawled back from the borderlands like a stray dog," Dane scoffed, sneering as he took a sip of his wine. "She probably spent her last penny to rent that dress and sneak in here through the kitchen door. Let’s go remind her where she belongs."

With vicious smiles, Nicole and Dane strutted across the marble floor, cutting directly into Robin's path.

"Well, well, well," Nicole sneered loudly, making sure the nearby heiresses and socialites could hear every word. "Look what the sewer washed up! I thought they sent criminals to rot in the northern wasteland, not let them walk into five-star hotels."

Robin stopped. She didn't look angry. She didn't look afraid. She held her glass of sparkling water, looking at Nicole as if she were a tiny, annoying mosquito.

"Nicole," Robin said smoothly, her sweet voice laced with pure ice. "I see five years haven't improved your taste. You're still wearing half a jewelry store around your neck just to hide your cheap personality."

Nicole’s face turned bright red with rage. "You ungrateful bitch! How dare you speak to me like that? Do you know who I am? I am the top model of Capital City and the future Mrs. Dane! You're just a discarded, worthless criminal! Did you come back to beg our parents for money? Are you here to beg Dane to take you back?"

Dane stepped forward, looking down at Robin with a smug, patronizing smirk. He puffed out his chest, jingling the luxury car keys in his pocket.

"Give it up, Robin," Dane said, his voice full of cruel pity. "I know you're hurting. I know you see me with Nicole and you wish you were the one holding my arm. But you're a girl with a criminal record now. You're damaged goods. If you get on your knees right now and apologize to Nicole for your rude words, maybe I’ll be generous and give you a few thousand dollars to buy a warm coat."

The surrounding socialites began snickering behind their feathered fans, pointing their fingers at Robin.

Robin didn't blink. A slow, breathtaking smirk appeared on her red lips.

"Keep your pennies for yourself, Dane," Robin said calmly, her green eyes piercing straight through him. "Judging by how fast your father's company stock is dropping tonight, you'll be the one begging for a warm coat by next month."

"You—!" Dane snarled, his face twisting in anger as he raised his hand to grab her shoulder.

Before his fingers could even come close, the heavy oak doors of the grand ballroom flew open with a thunderous bang.

The entire ballroom went completely, terrifyingly silent.

The chatter died instantly. The orchestra stopped playing. The most powerful billionaires in the room quickly straightened their ties, looking toward the entrance with pale faces and deep, anxious respect.

Brandon Blackwood had arrived.

He walked into the ballroom surrounded by eight towering, elite security guards dressed in tactical black suits.

Brandon was a legend in Capital City. He was the king of the corporate and underworld spheres—a ruthless billionaire whose single word could destroy entire conglomerates overnight. He stood well over six feet tall, broad-shouldered and powerfully built in a bespoke, pitch-black three-piece suit. His chiseled jaw was sharp as a blade, and his dark, brooding eyes looked at the room like an apex predator looking down on sheep.

He was known for two things: absolute, terrifying ruthlessness, and an icy hatred for women. In high society, everyone knew that any woman who dared to get within three feet of Brandon Blackwood would be thrown out into the street by his guards.

Nicole’s eyes lit up with wild, greedy ambition.

If I can catch Brandon Blackwood's attention, Nicole thought greedily, completely forgetting Dane beside her, I won't just be a high-society wife... I'll be the queen of the entire country!

Nicole immediately put on her sweetest, most innocent smile. She pushed her chest forward, fluttered her fake eyelashes, and took three delicate steps directly into Brandon’s walking path.

"Mr. Blackwood..." Nicole purred in a soft, trembling voice, reaching out a manicured hand toward his sleeve. "Welcome to the gala. I am Nicole Sinclair, and I would be so honored if—"

Brandon didn't even slow down.

He didn't look at her. He didn't blink. He brushed past Nicole so fast and cold that the sheer wind of his coat made her stumble backward on her heels. To Brandon, she was nothing more than an invisible pile of dirt on the floor.

Nicole gasped in utter shock, her face burning hot as several young heiresses in the crowd giggled at her humiliation.

Brandon’s long, commanding strides did not stop. His dark, piercing gaze cut straight through the sea of wealthy guests until it locked onto a single figure standing near the marble pillar.

His footsteps halted.

His dark eyes widened by a fraction of an inch.

Standing before him was a woman in sleek black silk with a back that could kill, holding her chin high with absolute, untouchable royalty. But it wasn't just her stunning beauty that made his heart slam against his ribs.

It was her eyes.

Those unmistakable, brilliant, lethal emerald green eyes.

It’s her, Brandon thought, his pulse roaring in his ears.

Two years ago, in the blood-soaked trenches of the northern borderlands, Brandon had been ambushed and shot, left to bleed to death inside a collapsed concrete bunker. In his final fading moments of consciousness, a mysterious woman in tactical gear had kicked the door open, eliminated five enemy mercenaries with terrifying combat speed, and tightly wrapped his bleeding chest with her own hands.

Before he passed out, he had looked up into those exact same hypnotic green eyes. He had searched the world for those eyes ever since.

And now, she was standing right in front of him.

A slow, dangerously handsome smirk tugged at the corner of Brandon’s lips. He closed the distance between them, stopping barely an inch away from Robin’s personal space. His towering frame completely shadowed her, radiating an overwhelming, intoxicating aura of raw power and masculine heat.

"Well, well," Brandon murmured, his deep, raspy baritone voice vibrating in Robin's ears. "I didn't expect to find a dangerous green-eyed ghost drinking cheap banquet water tonight."

The entire ballroom gasped. People held their breath in sheer disbelief. Brandon Blackwood was actually speaking to a woman!

Robin looked up at him. She took in his ridiculously handsome face, his broad chest, and his dark, intense gaze. But having saved hundreds of soldiers in the chaotic borderlands, she had zero memory of his face from that dark bunker.

Robin raised a single perfect eyebrow, her tone icy, smooth, and completely unimpressed.

"And I didn't expect a billionaire titan to have such poor opening lines," Robin replied with sharp wit. "Excuse me, Mr. Blackwood. You're blocking my light."

Brandon’s dark eyes flashed with pure, wicked fascination. Nobody in this city dared to speak to him with anything less than trembling terror. Yet here she was, treating him like a minor inconvenience.

Beside them, Dane’s face twisted with jealousy and rage. Seeing this handsome, powerful titan paying attention to his "discarded" ex-fiancée made Dane lose his mind.

"Robin! Stop embarrassing yourself!" Dane yelled, stepping forward aggressively. He reached out with his hand, trying to grab Robin’s bare arm to drag her away. "You don't talk to Mr. Blackwood like that! Come with me right now, you crazy—"

Dane never finished the sentence.

Before Dane's fingers could even touch Robin's skin, Brandon’s bodyguard stepped forward like a shadow. With lightning speed, the guard grabbed Dane’s wrist, twisted it backward until the bone cracked with a sickening snap, and snatched the glass of red wine right out of Dane’s hand.

SPLASH!

In front of the entire elite high society of Capital City, the bodyguard dumped the entire glass of sticky, dark red wine directly over Dane’s head and face.

"AHHH!" Dane shrieked, clutching his twisted wrist as red wine dripped down his nose, soaking his expensive white shirt and expensive navy tuxedo.

The ballroom erupted into loud gasps of horror and muffled laughter. Nicole screamed, jumping back in disgust so the red wine wouldn't ruin her dress.

Brandon didn't even spare Dane a single glance. He kept his dark, burning eyes locked completely on Robin, his voice low, possessive, and dripping with dark promise.

"Nobody touches what belongs in my sight," Brandon whispered, stepping closer until his breath brushed against the sensitive skin of Robin’s ear. "We have a lot to talk about, Little Soldier."

Robin met his burning gaze, her emerald eyes narrowing with a sharp, dangerous spark.