Chapter Twenty-Two: The Weight of Shadows

The doors shut, and Sarah was left standing in the cool night air, her pulse echoing in the hollow silence. Inside, the gala thrummed on, laughter spilling, champagne flowing, women fluttering around Liam Hamilton like moths desperate to singe themselves on his flame.

Her hand clenched against her gown. She hated herself.

Why am I like this?

Jealousy ate at her, sharp and vile. She had no right to feel it, no right to ache over a man who was twenty years her junior, a man surrounded by women who actually belonged in his world. Heiresses with perfect pedigrees. Shareholders’ daughters groomed for dynasties. Not her.

But the image wouldn’t leave her. That woman leaning into Liam’s ear, whispering with lips so close she could have licked him. The casual intimacy of her arm twined through his. The way she claimed his space so easily, as if she had the right.

Sarah shut her eyes, shame stinging hot behind her lids. She hated the jealousy. Hated that it made her feel small, inadequate. Hated that it revealed how deeply she wanted him, when she should have walked away the moment this dangerous game began.

You’re forty-five, Sarah. He’s twenty-five. You’re supposed to know better.

But she didn’t. God help her, she didn’t.

Her chest rose and fell unevenly, her breath fogging in the night air. She tried to steady herself, to rebuild the walls she’d sworn to keep, but they were in ruins. Liam had torn through them with his mouth, his hands, his relentless eyes that saw too much.

She was unraveling. And she couldn’t stop it.

The balcony doors opened again.

Sarah stiffened, bracing herself, praying it wasn’t another heiress come to gloat. But then, “Sarah.”

Her breath hitched.

Liam stepped out, tall and devastating in the golden glow spilling from the ballroom. He moved with quiet purpose, like a man on a mission, and before she could retreat, his hand was at her waist, pulling her back into the shadows.

“You shouldn’t—” she started, voice trembling.

“I told you not to move.” His tone was firm, but his touch was gentle, thumb stroking over her hip as though to soothe the storm inside her. His eyes searched hers, sharp and unyielding. “I won’t let anyone touch you. No one will know you were here.”

Tears pricked her eyes, though she bit them back with stubborn pride. “That’s the point, isn’t it? No one can know. I’m a secret, Liam. A… a shameful little secret you tuck away in dark corners.”

His jaw flexed, anger flashing in his gaze. “Don’t you dare call yourself that.”

“Then what am I?” she demanded, voice cracking under the weight of everything she had bottled up. “You go back in there, to them, to those women who can stand at your side in the light. And me? I hide in shadows, jealous of whispers. Do you know how pathetic that feels?”

Her confession ripped out of her, raw and ugly. Her chest heaved with it.

But Liam only closed the space between them, cupping her face in both hands, forcing her to look at him. His forehead pressed to hers, his breath harsh, his words even harsher.

“You’re not a secret. You’re the only thing that’s real in that whole damn room.”

Her heart stuttered.

“I’ll protect you,” he whispered, softer now, almost breaking. “Even if it means hiding you. Even if it kills me to walk back in there and pretend. Because I’d rather hide you than lose you.”

Her lips trembled. Her resolve crumbled.

And then he kissed her.

It wasn’t gentle. It was desperate, searing, his mouth claiming hers with the kind of hunger that left no room for air. His hands framed her jaw, tilting her up to him, his body pressing her against the cold stone railing as if he needed to brand her, to remind her she was his.

Sarah melted, tears spilling as her fingers curled into his tuxedo. Her heart screamed, torn between wanting to push him away and never letting go.

Inside, the music swelled, laughter rang, and the world went on. But on the balcony, hidden in shadows, Sarah burned with a fire only Liam could ignite.