The Proposal That Broke Me

The chandelier above me glittered like a false sky, all glass and lies.

Every inch of the Silverfang Ballroom screamed wealth and control—polished obsidian floors, golden moldings, and hundreds of guests in couture, laughter slipping through wine-stained lips. Nothing about it seemed ordinary. But I had no idea how extraordinary it really was.

I clutched my champagne flute like it was armor. The chilled glass trembled in my hand.

I hadn't planned on staying long. Just enough time for them to see I wasn't hiding. That I had returned—stronger, shinier, and with a heartbeat still intact.

But that plan crumbled the second I saw him.

Leo Devereaux.

Standing tall on the center dais, dressed in a charcoal suit with his signature gold pin. His smile was disarming—warm, practiced, perfectly designed to win over any room.

My pulse thudded.

He stood beside her.

Althea Moreau.

Perfect. Poised. The woman they all whispered about. We shared similar beginnings, orphans folded into high society by distant relatives and careful grooming. But while I remained ordinary, Althea seemed touched by something untouchable.

I knew nothing of the world hiding behind these polished masks. I didn't know the truth about Leo. Or Althea. Or half the people in this room.

I just thought I was watching the man I used to love propose to someone else.

Leo raised his hand, and the room fell into a hush.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the Moonveil Alliance," he began, voice rich with rehearsed charm. "Tonight, under the grace of this glorious moon, I want to make a vow."

The crowd leaned in. Cameras clicked. The moment felt theatrical. Reverent. Like the announcement of a king.

"I once believed fate would guide me. But I've learned something far more powerful. That choice defines destiny. And tonight, I choose her."

He turned to Althea, who blinked once, perfectly, as if she hadn't already practiced this in the mirror a hundred times.

He dropped to one knee.

A collective gasp broke around the room.

"Althea," he said, holding out a box. "You are the calm in my storm. The order in my chaos. I want you beside me—not by tradition, blood, or choice."

The ring sparkled in the velvet-lined box. A gold sunstone wrapped in two silver crescents, almost claw-like. Unique. Regal.

I had forgotten how to breathe.

"Will you do me the honor of becoming my Luna?"

I frowned.

Luna?

The room erupted. Applause. Whispers. Shimmering approval.

Althea smiled through tears, one hand pressed to her chest. "Yes! Yes, Leo!"

He slipped the ring on her finger and kissed her, slow and intentional. The crowd ate it up.

And I—Sofia Montenegro—stood among them like a ghost. A forgotten thread in a tapestry I didn't understand.

I turned before the tears won.

The Moonveil gardens were quieter than the ballroom—darker too, cloaked in silver fog and the perfume of night jasmine.

I didn't know why I ended up by the fountain. I needed a place to fall apart.

I gripped the edge of the stone and closed my eyes. The night air stung as I sucked in breath after shallow breath.

How could he do that? So publicly. So confidently. Without even blinking in my direction.

I whispered to no one, "You stupid girl."

"Talking to yourself now? That's dangerous," came a voice behind me.

I turned, startled.

Theo Laurent.

I had only ever seen him from a distance. Tall. Cold. Commanding. Like a prince carved from obsidian.

Tonight, he looked like trouble in a tailored suit.

I straightened. "Do I know you?"

"No," he said. "But you looked like you were about to drown in bitterness. Thought I'd offer a rope."

"Kind of you," I muttered. "But unnecessary."

He didn't leave. Instead, he stepped closer, hands in his pockets. "You handled that well. Most would've screamed or thrown a drink."

"I'm not most people."

His lips twitched. "No. You're not."

Something in the way he said it made me bristle.

"Why are you out here anyway? Shouldn't you be inside, howling with the rest of them?"

His brow lifted slightly. "Is that what you think they're doing in there?"

I crossed my arms. "Isn't that what these events are? Political howling? Fancy masks and pretty lies?"

"You're not entirely wrong."

We stood there, quiet. The silence between us felt oddly comfortable.

Then he said, "They don't deserve you."

I blinked. "Excuse me?"

"The way they looked at you. Like you were a shadow instead of fire."

"You don't even know me."

"I didn't need to. Leo chose safety. He chose convenience. You?" He turned to face me fully. "You'd burn the world before you begged for it."

My throat tightened. "He didn't even tell me he was seeing her."

"He didn't tell many people a lot of things."

I frowned. "What does that mean?"

Theo's eyes flickered with something unreadable. "Let's just say you're not the only one who's been lied to."

We stood in silence again. This time, heavier.

Finally, I whispered, "I want to make them regret it."

He looked at me, head tilted slightly. "You don't strike me as the revenge type."

"Maybe I'm just tired of being nice."

He chuckled. "Now that sounds interesting."

I met his gaze. "I have a terrible idea."

"Those are the best kind."

"Let's fake it. You and me. A relationship. Just long enough to stir the pot."

He raised a brow. "Fake mates?"

"Mhm."

He considered it. "And why would I agree?"

"Because you hate being bored. And I know you saw Leo's face when I left."

He smirked slowly. "Touché."

I extended a hand. "Partners?"

He stared at it for a beat, then took it.

The moment our skin touched, something jolted—sharp, strange, like static on bare skin.

We both froze.

"Did you feel—?" I began.

"Nope," he said too quickly. "Definitely just static."

"Right. Must be the champagne."

He didn't let go immediately.

Finally, he said, "Alright, Sofia. Let's cause a little chaos."

As we walked back toward the glowing ballroom, I didn't notice the pair of golden eyes watching from the shadows.

But the moon did.

And she never stayed silent for long.