CHAPTER 3

CELESTINE POV

The emerald-green silk gown fitted me like a second skin, draped perfectly over my curves. I stood in front of the full-length mirror, adjusting the delicate diamond necklace the stylist had picked out. To anyone else, I looked like a radiant, wealthy newborn bride. Only I could see the faint tension tightly holding my shoulders and the subtle paleness beneath my makeup.

"Are you ready?"

Cyrus stood at the doorway of my room. He was dressed in a tailored black tuxedo that fit his broad shoulders impeccably. His crisp white shirt contrasted sharply with his dark features, and his gaze lingered on me for a moment longer than usual. A flicker of something passed through his eyes, but it vanished as quickly as it came, replaced by his signature indifference.

"As ready as I'll ever be to play pretend," I muttered, grabbing my satin clutch from the bed.

"Remember the rules, Celestine," he said, stepping back into the hallway to let me pass. "We smile. We hold hands if necessary. The press is looking for any crack in the armor."

"I know how to act, Cyrus," I replied smoothly, brushing past him. "I grew up in the same high-society circus you did."

The drive to the grand ballroom of the Grand Plaza Hotel was mostly silent. Cyrus spent the majority of it reading legal documents on his phone, while I stared out the window, watching the city lights blur into streaks of gold. But when the limousine pulled up to the red carpet, his demeanor changed instantly. He slipped his phone into his pocket, turning to face me.

Before the door opened, he reached out, his long fingers wrapping gently but firmly around my wrist. His touch was unexpectedly warm, sending a strange hum right under my skin.

"Let me do the talking," he murmured, his eyes locking onto mine.

I nodded once, my throat suddenly dry.

The door opened, and a barrage of camera flashes blinded me. The roar of journalists shouting our names filled the evening air. Cyrus stepped out first, extending his hand to me. I took it, stepping onto the pavement. The moment my heels touched the ground, his arm smoothly slid around my waist, pulling me firmly against his side. The sudden heat of his body startled me, but I forced a flawless, practiced smile for the flashing lenses.

Inside, the ballroom was a massive sea of glittering crystal chandeliers, expensive champagne, and judging eyes. The elite of the city were all here, and I could feel their collective gaze pivoting toward us the second we entered.

"Look at them," I whispered through a tight smile, keeping my eyes fixed ahead as we walked down the grand steps. "They look like vultures waiting for a carcass."

"Let them look," Cyrus replied smoothly, his hand on my waist tightening slightly, anchoring me to him. "They can't touch you."

For the first hour, Cyrus kept me right beside him as he greeted business associates and board members. He introduced me as his wife with such effortless ease that it almost felt real. His voice was warm when he spoke about me, his thumb absentmindedly tracing small circles against the bare skin of my waist through the open back of my dress. The small gesture sent confusing jolts of electricity straight through me. He’s just acting, I reminded myself. It’s all part of the contract.

Eventually, an old investor pulled Cyrus away for a private chat near the bar.

"Stay here. I'll be back in five minutes," he murmured, giving my hand a brief squeeze before stepping away.

I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding, stepping near a quiet alcove to grab a glass of champagne from a passing waiter. But my brief moment of peace was quickly cut short.

"Well, well. Look who managed to show her face."

I froze, turning around slowly. Standing there was Victoria, my stepmother, flanked by two younger women from prominent families who used to pretend to be my friends. Victoria wore a smug smile, her eyes critically scanning me from head to toe.

"Victoria," I said, keeping my voice perfectly flat.

"I must admit, Celestine, I'm impressed," Victoria sneered, taking a sip from her glass. "The whole family thought your father's little... financial mishap would land you in the gutters. But here you are, wearing diamonds. You always were a clever girl, finding a way to sell yourself to the highest bidder."

"I didn't sell myself to anyone," I said, my grip tightening on my champagne glass until my knuckles turned white.

"Oh, please. Everyone in this room knows the truth," one of the socialites chimed in with a cruel giggle. "The Aragon family is completely bankrupt. Cyrus Valdemor didn't marry you for love. He bought you out of pity to keep your father's mess from ruining his company's reputation. You're just a temporary charity case."

The words stung, hitting the exact raw nerve I had been trying to numb all day. The surrounding whispers from neighboring guests seemed to grow louder, closing in on me. I wanted to turn and walk away, but my feet felt glued to the floor. The humiliation was a heavy weight, suffocating my pride.

"Is that so?"

A cold, commanding voice sliced right through the tension.

Victoria's smug smile dropped instantly, her face turning pale. The two girls beside her took a step back, their eyes wide with sudden fear.

Cyrus stepped into the alcove, his expression dark and terrifying. He didn't even look at Victoria or her companions. His eyes were entirely fixed on me. He walked right up to my side, his large hand sliding firmly around my waist, pulling me flush against his chest. It was an unmistakable, dominant gesture of absolute possession.

He tilted his head down, pressing a lingering, gentle kiss against my temple in front of everyone. The tenderness of it caught me completely off guard, making my heart skip a violent beat.

Then, he turned his head slowly toward Victoria, his dark eyes turning into twin blocks of ice.

"I believe I overheard you discussing my wife's family," Cyrus said, his voice dangerously low, vibrating with a quiet fury that made the air in the room feel heavy.

"Cyrus, darling, we were just—" Victoria stammered, her voice shaking as she tried to force a polite smile.

"She is Celestine Aragon-Valdemor now," Cyrus interrupted, his tone sharp enough to cut glass. He took a half-step forward, shielding most of my body behind his broad frame. "Let me make one thing completely clear to everyone standing in this circle. Touch my wife again, or speak another disrespectful word about her, and I will make sure your family goes bankrupt by tomorrow morning."

The entire corner of the ballroom went dead silent. No one dared to breathe.

Cyrus didn't wait for an apology. Keeping his arm locked securely around my waist, he turned me around and began leading me toward the grand exit, completely ignoring the stunned whispers following our retreat. My mind was spinning, my heart pounding wildly against my ribs as I looked up at his sharp profile. He looked furious, his jaw clenched tight, but his grip on me was fiercely protective.