Five

Damien's voice cut through the tense air, cold and filled with lethal intent. "Watch your mouth when you talk to my woman."

The words hung in the air, heavy with possessiveness, and Sophie’s heart skipped a beat. She felt a chill creep up her spine. It wasn’t just the implication of the act they were playing—it was how real it felt. The possessiveness in his tone made her stomach twist uncomfortably, though she quickly shoved it aside. What mattered now was how Aaron was reacting.

Aaron's face went pale, disbelief flooding his expression. His mouth opened, but no words came out, only shallow breaths, as though his very understanding of the world had cracked. Jeana, standing just behind him, stared at the scene in a mix of shock and confusion. Both of them turned their attention to Sophie, looking for an explanation, but none came.

“She’s your…” Aaron stuttered, pointing shakily at Sophie. But before he could finish his thought, Damien was on him in a flash, gripping him by the collar with brutal precision.

“She’s not just my woman,” Damien’s voice was dangerously low, barely a whisper that still carried the weight of a promise. “She’s my wife.”

A stunned silence followed. Sophie could feel the weight of the moment, the tension thickening in the air. Aaron’s face drained of color, his lips parted, but no sound emerged—just a breath, barely audible. Jeana’s eyes flicked between the two men and Sophie, her mouth slightly agape as the words sank in.

“Y…your wife?” Aaron finally managed to choke out, disbelief lingering in his voice.

“Yes.” Damien released Aaron roughly, shoving him back. “Don’t ever forget it.”

Aaron staggered backward, his expression now a mix of anger, regret, and something that could only be described as humiliation. His hands balled into fists at his sides, but he said nothing.

Unfazed, Damien turned to Sophie. "Let’s go, darling," he said, his tone now soft, almost gentle. His gaze met hers—his eyes deep, unreadable, like a storm hidden in still waters. He extended his hand.

Sophie hesitated for a fraction of a second, feeling a rush of nervousness before she placed her hand in his. Her fingers trembled slightly, but she steadied herself, gripping his hand with a quiet resolve. Without a word, they moved through the crowd, sidestepping elegantly dressed guests who barely noticed the tension building around them.

As they made their way through the hall, Sophie couldn’t help but glance over her shoulder.

Aaron stood frozen, still processing the shock of the moment, his hand rising to his cheek where Damien’s slap had left a mark. Jeana, still clinging to his arm, was the first to break the silence.

“What just happened?” she asked, her voice shaky and uncertain.

Aaron didn’t answer right away. His hand hovered over his cheek, rubbing it as though trying to make sense of the sting, both physical and emotional. His voice cracked when he spoke, disbelief still clouding his words. “That’s my step-uncle.”

Jeana’s gasp was nearly drowned by the murmurs of the crowd, but it was still sharp enough to catch Aaron’s attention. “What? Damien Cavanaugh is your uncle? And he’s now married to Sophie?”

Aaron shook his head, his frustration mixing with his disbelief. “What the heck?”

Their arrogance had evaporated, replaced by confusion and frustration. Sophie felt a small surge of triumph at the sight. They were no longer in control; they were the ones out of their element, floundering in the wake of her and Damien’s unexpected revelation.

A waiter passed by with a tray of champagne glasses, and Damien smoothly plucked two from the tray. He handed one to Sophie with a calm, collected gesture.

Sophie took the glass, bringing it to her lips, the cold liquid slipping down her throat as she tried to shake off the lingering effects of the moment. Despite the calmness she tried to project, she could still feel Aaron’s stare digging into her back. She turned her head slightly, meeting his gaze just long enough to see the furrowed brows and tight-lipped expression, a look of someone who had just realized they’d lost control.

She took a steadying breath, then casually asked, “So, Aaron is your nephew?”

Damien gave a single, nonchalant hum as he took a sip of his drink. “Do you know him?”

Sophie held his gaze, her expression carefully neutral. She didn’t want Damien to realize that, while their marriage might have started as a way to get back at Aaron, it was far more complicated than that. He might think she was petty, and though she didn’t particularly care what Damien thought, there were some truths she wasn’t ready to reveal just yet.

She shrugged, an effortless motion that belied the tension running through her. “He must have mistaken me for someone else.”

Damien studied her longer, his expression unreadable. Then, with a subtle nod, he seemed to accept the explanation, though the flicker of suspicion in his eyes lingered. Whether or not he truly believed her, Sophie couldn’t tell.

Changing the subject, she asked, “So, this charity gala…”

“The Whitmore family is hosting it,” Damien replied, his voice smooth, betraying no hint of hesitation. “Do you know them?”

She shook her head, her gaze steady and unaffected.

Damien’s brow arched in disbelief. “You’re the heiress of Algernon Empire, and you don’t know them?”

Sophie met his intense gaze with a calm yet purposeful tilt of her head. “Let’s just say I’ve been walking in shadows until recently.”

His eyes darkened slightly, as if he were peeling away her layers with nothing more than a glance. Sophie shivered, a response that she couldn’t quite suppress despite herself.

“What?” she asked, her voice unwavering, though she could feel her pulse quicken.

Damien arched an eyebrow, the glint of amusement in his expression shifting to something more intense. “What?” he asked, as if the confusion on her face was part of the game he was enjoying.

Sophie exhaled sharply, the words slipping out before she could think them through. “Can you stop looking at me like that?”

Damien gave her a wry smirk. “Well, you’re my wife. You want me looking at another chick instead?”

A sharp exhale left Sophie’s lips, but before she could form a retort, Damien subtly motioned behind her. She turned slightly, catching sight of several members of the press standing nearby, their cameras aimed directly at them, capturing every moment.

Damien leaned closer, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “I’m a public figure, and so are you. Best we keep up the act well.”

A slow smile tugged at the corner of Sophie’s lips, her eyes glinting with a mixture of amusement and understanding. She slipped her arm through his and leaned in, playing her part.

“You were quite hostile to that nephew of yours,” she murmured, her voice soft as she recalled Aaron’s response to Damien’s sharp gesture. “I could feel the tension from here.”

“Well, he irks me most times,” Damien replied smoothly, his voice betraying just the slightest edge of irritation. He swirled the wine in his glass, eyes darkening as he continued, “And I don’t tolerate anyone talking badly to my wife.”

Sophie’s breath caught at his words, a strange thrill running through her at the possessiveness in his tone. Something about it sent an undeniable shiver through her body—something dangerously alluring.

Damien’s lips curled into a smirk, catching her off guard. His voice was soft but full of confidence. “Don’t keep staring,” he said with a playful edge. “Or you might get lost in my eyes.”

Sophie’s cheeks flushed as she realized she had been caught in the web of his gaze. She quickly composed herself, forcing a small, knowing smile. “You wish,” she teased, taking a slow sip of her wine, her mind racing to regain its composure.

Damien’s smirk deepened, but he remained silent, his eyes locked onto her with an unreadable intensity. Sophie, feeling the weight of his gaze, scanned the room, noticing that Aaron and Jeana were nowhere in sight. They had likely retreated, shrinking into the shadows, embarrassed by the revelation of Damien’s claim on her.

Later, Sophie excused herself, needing a moment away from the tension in the room. She walked toward the restroom, the soft glow of the vanity lights illuminating her face as she touched up her lipstick, carefully smoothing her expression into one of controlled confidence. Satisfied, she turned to leave—but froze when she found herself face to face with Aaron.

His presence loomed large, his familiar eyes burning with fury as they locked onto hers. His jaw was clenched, the muscles in his neck tight with barely contained anger.

“Is that how far you decided to go?” His voice was low and sharp, his words dripping with accusation.

Sophie arched a brow, her tone light and nonchalant. “What are you talking about?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” Aaron spat, taking a step closer, his body language threatening. “Were you that shameless to throw yourself at a man old enough to father you?”

A bitter laugh escaped Sophie’s lips, and she didn’t hide the amusement that flickered in her eyes. “Talking about shamelessness… that shouldn’t really come from you.”

Aaron’s nostrils flared, his fists clenched at his sides. “Whatever,” he muttered, the tension palpable in the air. “I always knew you were after what I had, that you never truly loved me. Jeana was right—you only wanted to get into my family so you could show off to the world.”

Sophie chuckled softly, the sound light but edged with something darker, a shadow of mockery in her voice.

Aaron’s anger seemed to intensify at the sound, his breathing becoming more uneven, his hands trembling at his sides.