08

"Let’s get in, love,” Eros whispered against the shell of Adriana’s ear, his lips grazing her skin.

Adriana blinked, her gaze reluctantly peeling away from Antonio and Abby. She drew in a steadying breath and gave Eros the smallest nod. “Let’s go,” she whispered back with a tight smile, her hand slipping into his.

Their arms intertwined like a married couple, they walked into the hotel side by side.

Just a few paces behind them, Abby’s heels clicked against the marble as she tried to keep up with Antonio’s brisk stride.

“Isn’t that your ex-wife? What is she doing with Eros? Did you invite her too?” She asked questions upon questions, her voice clipped, as she watched Adriana vanish through the entrance.

“I need silence, Abby,” Antonio replied coldly, his eyes straight ahead.

Abby didn’t speak another word after. She knew better than to test Antonio when his voice took that tone.

Inside the grand ballroom, luxury shimmered from every surface. Waiters moved silently, offering flutes of champagne to a crowd glittering in gowns and tailored tuxedos.

But the moment Antonio stepped into the room, all heads turned.

The room recognised him, not just as a man of wealth, but as a man of power.

He didn’t need to demand attention. He simply was the centre of attention.

With Abby trailing behind, he made his way to the stage, where a sleek black microphone awaited him.

With a discreet mic curled around his cheek, he scanned the room once and then launched into his presentation.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,” he began, his voice smooth, confident, and commanding. “I want to welcome you all to my tenth technology launch. I’ll get straight to the point, because what we’ve built speaks for itself.”

The massive screens behind him lit up, revealing a series of live demonstrations of his newest invention: an advanced AI system that didn’t just learn but adapted to human emotion in real time.

Gasps spread across the hall as the footage played—virtual assistants predicting behavioural changes, home systems adjusting to moods, and AI in boardrooms reading the emotions of competitors during negotiation.

It wasn’t just smart. It was intuitive. The kind of thing that could rewrite the future.

Antonio’s voice carried through the room like steel. “This isn’t just innovation. It's a revolution. And to those investing tonight—you’re not backing a product. You’re stepping into the next era of global intelligence.”

Across the room, murmurs broke out. Heads nodded. Champagne glasses stilled midair. Within minutes, investors were lining up, figuratively and literally, and offering stakes worth billions.

By the time Antonio stepped off the stage, he was all glowing with pride. Applause thundered behind him as he shook hands, exchanged smirks with CEOs, and made quiet promises to people who knew exactly what he could deliver.

At a corner table near the back, Adriana watched all of it unfold with a calm, unreadable expression.

Eros followed her gaze, which was all focused on Antonio basking in attention, with Abby still glued to his side like a shadow in heels.

“Like I knew… he invited me just to rub this in my face,” he suddenly muttered under his breath, his tone edged with something colder than anger—wounded pride.

“I can’t believe he’s still with her,” Adriana added, the words sharp as glass. “They look… happy.”

Eros scoffed lightly. “Looks like a lie. You will soon realise.”

A long silence passed between them, and then, Adriana straightened up, plastering a confident smile on her face. “Why don’t we greet some of the investors around? Might as well turn this into a business opportunity.”

“Gladly,” Eros said, offering his arm again. This time, she took it without hesitation.

They both moved through the crowd like a power couple—elegant, composed, and impossible to ignore.

“What a lovely surprise. Mr. and Mrs. Rodriguez,” a familiar voice called out warmly.

Adriana turned to see Camila Romero, one of her earliest and most loyal investors. The older woman’s silver hair was swept into a low bun, her emerald gown catching the light as she smiled.

“Camila,” Adriana greeted, hugging her lightly. “It’s wonderful to see you. How’s business?”

“Thriving. Your last investment model paid off handsomely. I owe you another bottle of vintage.” Camila stated, her eyes twinkling.

In-between, Eros offered a polite nod and said, “A pleasure meeting you, Ms. Camila.”

“Likewise, Mr. Rodriguez,” she replied, and then her gaze flicked over his protective stance beside Adriana.

“Seems the host is headed this way. I already said my hellos. I’ll leave you to it.” She said with a smile, and with a graceful exit, she disappeared into the crowd.

As Eros and Adriana slowly turned, like Camila had said, they saw Antonio making a beeline for them.

Eros leaned closer, his lips brushing against Adriana’s ear. “Fake a smile,” he whispered.

Adriana obeyed without flinching. Right then, Eros landed a soft kiss on her cheek just as Antonio reached them.

Antonio stopped in front of them and cleared his throat. “I never thought you’d show up,” he said, his voice low and rough, with his gaze trained on just Eros.

Eros answered with a calm smile. “Why wouldn’t we? I was invited, so no offence coming with my wife, yeah?”

Adriana stayed composed as Eros tightened his arm around her waist and planted another kiss just beneath her cheekbone.

Antonio’s eyes flickered down to Eros’s hand on her waist, and then to her face, before settling back on Eros'.

“You always settle for my leftovers. Both in business, and well… in women too.” Antonio said, the smirk on his face cutting like a blade. “

Adriana stiffened beside Eros, but before she could speak, Eros let out a quiet chuckle.

“And yet, your ‘leftovers’ seem to shine brighter in my hands.” Eros said slowly, a smirk playing across his lips.

“Why do I feel like you’re the one chasing leftovers now?” Eros added smoothly, his voice husky.

And then, he leaned in just enough, his smile biting. “Especially the one you threw away and left to rot.”

As Eros 'finished forming his last sentence, Antonio’s jaw ticked. Adriana’s breath also wavered, as the air around them grew suffocating from tension and veiled insults.

Just then, her hands curled around her clutch. “I need to visit the restroom,” she muttered tightly and turned away before her temper boiled over. She didn’t wait for a response. Her heels clicked sharply against the marble as she disappeared down the hall.

Antonio’s eyes followed her for a beat before he turned to Eros again. “Whatever game you think you’re playing, Eros… you’ll lose.” He suddenly said, his voice low.

Eros’s smile didn’t falter. “And what makes you so sure?” he asked.

Antonio’s smirk returned with the familiar arrogance. “Because this time, I’m playing too. And I won't lose,” he replied.

Eros laughed under his breath, stepping forward until they stood nearly shoulder-to-shoulder. “Well, buckle up, Migos. Because this isn’t the same me you stabbed in the back years ago. I’ve levelled up.”

“Now if you’ll excuse me… I need to get my wife.” He concluded, brushing Antonio’s shoulder with deliberate casualness.

He walked away without looking back, but something made Antonio glance across the room, expecting to see him heading for the exit Adriana had taken. Instead, he spotted him still in the ballroom, laughing lightly with three influential businesswomen.

With Antonio’s eyes narrowed, his smirk returned. Then, he turned and walked in the direction Adriana had taken.

In the quiet of the ladies’ room, Adriana stood before the sink, gripping the edge of the marble counter like it was the only thing anchoring her. As her chest rose and fell in sharp, shallow breaths, the word leftover repeated in her mind like a cruel echo.

Her reflection looked as furious as she felt—shoulders rigid, jaw clenched, lips red and trembling. Seeing Antonio tonight had been like reopening a wound she had stitched shut years ago. And now, he had rubbed salt into it.

She splashed cold water on her face, trying to cool the rising fire in her chest. But no amount of water could wash off what she was feeling.

“Why did I even come here?” She thought, reaching for a paper towel to wipe her hands.

When she realised that staying in the toilet wasn't helping with the anger she felt inside her, she decided to go home.

But just when she pushed open the restroom door, she froze upon finding Antonio leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, like he owned it.

Without a word, she stiffened and tried to walk past him.

But before she could brush by, Antonio's voice cut through the silence.

“So… you married my worst rival? What a smart woman.” He said, sarcasm curling around his words like poison.

Adriana turned slowly to face him, her eyes flashing. “He’s better than you in every possible way, Antonio. And let this be the last time you speak about my husband or anything that concerns me.”

She said and moved to leave again, but suddenly, a sharp pain knifed through her lower abdomen. She gasped, gripping her stomach tightly as she stopped in her tracks.

Antonio’s brows furrowed. “Are you… alright?”

“Why do you care?” she hissed through gritted teeth, refusing to meet his eyes.

But before she could take another step, the pain doubled—worse this time. Her knees buckled slightly, and she reached for the wall, steadying herself with one hand as her other clutched her stomach.

Antonio stepped forward instinctively. “Are you around your—”

“Don’t touch me,” Adriana cut him off vehemently, her voice shaking but low, as beads of sweat broke out on her temple.

“I’m just trying to help,” Antonio said, already reaching for her arm.

In that moment, Eros appeared, and his knuckles met Antonio’s jaw in a single, unrelenting blow.

Antonio staggered backward, caught off guard, with blood smearing from the cut on his lower lip.

“She asked not to touch her. Don’t you ever lay your filthy hands on my wife again.” Eros growled, his eyes blazing with fury.

In silence, Antonio wiped the blood from his lip with the back of his hand, looking stunned. He watched as Eros turned to Adriana.

“Are you alright?” Eros asked, his anger instantly shedding for concern.

Adriana looked up at him, her skin now ghost-pale, as her eyes glazed from the pain. “Take me out of here. I don’t feel good,” she whispered.

Without hesitation, Eros wrapped an arm around her, helping her stand fully upright. But before they could take more than a few steps, another wave of pain tore through her.

She let out a soft cry and collapsed slightly into him.

That was it. Without another word, Eros bent down and scooped her into his arms in a bridal style.

“Hang in there, I’ve got you.” He murmured against her forehead as he walked fast and steady.

Adriana didn’t respond. She just curled into him, with one hand still on her stomach, while the other clung to the lapel of his jacket.

Behind them, Antonio stood frozen, with blood still trickling from the corner of his lip.

As his eyes locked on the woman he once called his wife, now being carried away in the arms of the man he despised most, for the first time in years, he didn’t feel like the winner in the room.