Chapter 7

Elena's POV

The moment the car rolled to a stop in front of the event building, my fingers curled around the door handle, ready to step out.

But before I could push the door open, a firm, warm hand wrapped around my wrist, stopping me in my tracks.

“Wait,” his deep voice rumbled beside me.

I turned, meeting his icy, unreadable gaze. Caspian’s grip was gentle but firm, his thumb lightly brushing against my pulse.

My breath hitched at the intensity in his expression, but before I could ask why, he stepped out first, moving with that effortless authority that always made people pause and take notice.

He strode around the car, his tailored suit catching the moonlight, and pulled the door open for me.

My chest tightened at the small yet thoughtful gesture. A habit of his, I realized. A silent claim.

He reached out, his fingers expectant. I hesitated for just a moment before sliding my hand into his. His grip tightened slightly, grounding me, before he led me toward the brightly lit entrance.

The building stood ahead, its high walls glowing under the chandelier-lit windows.

The air was filled with music and laughter, but despite the fancy decorations, unease slithered down my spine.

I shouldn’t have come.

The moment we stepped inside, the cool air-conditioning wrapped around my exposed skin.

The scent of roses, fine wine, and expensive cologne filled the air, blending with the murmurs of wealthy men.

Chandeliers cast golden hues over polished marble floors, and waiters in crisp uniforms weaved through the crowd with trays of champagne.

Caspian suddenly leaned in, his breath fanning against my ear. “Take a look around,” he murmured. “I’ll be back soon.”

Before I could question him, he excused himself and disappeared into the crowd.

I exhaled, glancing around. People milled about in elegant evening wear, sipping drinks and engaging in polite conversation.

Despite my best efforts to remain unnoticed, I could already feel lingering gazes. Whispers trailed somewhere behind my back, but I ignored them.

A waiter passed by with a tray of desserts, and my eyes landed on a small, enticing slice of chocolate cake. A small taste wouldn’t hurt, after all.

But just as I reached out, a sharp, familiar voice cut through the air like a blade.

“Well, well… look who decided to show up.”

I stiffened, my fingers hovering just above the cake. That voice—dripping with contempt and barely contained anger—sent a shiver down my spine.

Turning slowly, my gaze landed on her. Isabella. My ex-husband’s mistress.

Her lips curled into a smirk, amusement flickering in her eyes as she crossed her arms over her chest.

She was draped in an expensive silk gown, diamonds glittering at her throat, her hair styled to perfection.

But beneath her fancy look, I could see it—the thinly veiled jealousy, the sharpness in her eyes.

And then it hit me.

This wasn’t just any party… this was the Nightingale family event.

Which meant… Caleb was here.

A bitter taste coated my tongue. I had been so focused on keeping my composure that I had completely overlooked that crucial fact.

My stomach twisted, but I swallowed down the unease, forcing my expression to remain unreadable.

I turned on my heel, deciding she wasn’t worth my time. But Isabella wasn’t done.

Before I could take another step, she grabbed my arm and pulled me backward, her nails digging into my skin.

“Why are you here?” she hissed, her voice low but sharp. “Have you come to take Caleb back?”

I let out a short, humorless laugh. “I’d rather sleep in the slums than beg for trash, Bella.”

I yanked my arm free, ready to walk away, but then—

A sharp crack echoed through the hall.

Pain exploded across my cheek, my head snapping to the side. A stunned silence spread through the room, gasps filling the air.

My skin burned where she had slapped me, the sting spreading across my jaw.

Slowly, I turned back to face her, anger simmering beneath my composure. She expected me to cower. To shrink away. But she was wrong.

Without a second thought, I swung my hand, my palm striking her face in a resounding slap.

Isabella stumbled back, clutching her cheek, her eyes wide with shock. She couldn’t believe I had done this to her.

Murmurs rippled through the crowd as people drew closer, their curiosity piqued by the unfolding scene before them.

I took a step forward, my voice cold and steady.

“Don’t you ever lay your filthy hands on me again,” I warned. “I’m not your slave, Isabella. You don’t get to boss me around.”

Her stunned expression flickered with something else—panic. That’s when I realized why.

People were watching.

And then, her gaze darted past me, her eyes widening slightly.

Before I could turn, she suddenly grabbed my hand, her grip trembling. Her expression shifted, morphing into something pitiful.

“Please,” she whimpered, her voice loud enough for everyone to hear. “I didn’t mean to upset you. Forgive me.”

Confusion surged through me. What was she—

Then I heard footsteps. I turned sharply, and my heart stopped.

It was Caleb.

He stood a few feet away, his sharp suit perfectly tailored, his usually confident posture stiff.

But what caught me off guard wasn’t just his presence—it was the way he was looking at me.

Like he had seen a ghost.

A muscle in his jaw ticked as his gaze flickered between Isabella and me.

“What’s going on?” His voice was sharp, demanding.

Isabella sniffled, blinking up at him with teary eyes. “I—I was just trying to welcome her, but she…” She trailed off, gesturing weakly toward me.

Understanding dawned in his eyes, but it wasn’t the right kind. It was twisted.

She was lying to him.

A scoff left his lips. “So you’re here to punish me for divorcing you?”

I arched a brow in disgust. “What?” I forced out.

“You heard me.” His voice was cold, guarded. “I don’t know what you’re trying to do, Elena, but I won’t let you use Isabella to get back at me.”

I laughed. I actually laughed. The sheer audacity of his words was almost amusing.

“You really think everything is about you, don’t you?” I mused. “Still as self-absorbed as ever, I see.”

His jaw tightened. “You shouldn’t have come here.”

“You think I wanted to?” I shot back.

“You shouldn’t have touched my wife.”

I froze.

Wife? Were they married already? My stomach clenched, my fingers curling into fists.

“What?”

He smirked, but there was no amusement in his eyes. “Are you jealous?” His gaze flickered over me. “Is that why you pushed her?”

The words barely registered.

I opened my mouth to defend myself, to tell him exactly what had happened, but Caleb wasn’t interested in the truth. He stepped forward, grabbing my wrist roughly.

“You need to leave,” he ordered. “I don’t care why you’re here, but I won’t take you back even if you beg.”

I inhaled sharply, staring at him in disbelief.

This man.

This man who once swore he loved me, yet he had never truly known me at all.

I yanked my wrist back. “I’m not going anywhere.”

His grip tightened, and I struggled to free myself again.

But then—

“Let go of my wife.”

The deep, authoritative voice cut through the tension like a blade.

Everything stilled.

Slowly, Caleb turned. And there, standing at the entrance, radiating power and control in the way only he could—

My ex-husband’s cruel uncle.

And now, my husband.

Caspian Nightingale.

His eyes burned with fury, his stance rigid with restrained violence. I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding.

What would happen next?