Chapter 3: The Gala and the Whispered Rumors

The dress shimmered like liquid gold under the chandelier light.

Ava barely recognized herself in the mirror — the fitted satin hugged her curves, the neckline daring but elegant. Her hair, once a messy bun of simplicity, now cascaded in soft curls down her back.

The stylist had whispered, “Every woman dreams of looking like a Blackwood bride.”

But to Ava, it still felt like a dream she had borrowed, not earned.

When the door opened, she felt his presence before she saw him.

Ethan.

He was dressed in a tailored black tuxedo, his cufflinks glinting like tiny secrets. He paused at the doorway, his gaze sweeping over her slowly — and for the briefest second, his controlled expression faltered.

“You look…” He cleared his throat. “Presentable.”

Ava’s lips curved into a smirk. “That’s your version of a compliment?”

“Don’t push your luck, Mrs. Blackwood.”

The way he said it — Mrs. Blackwood — made something warm and dangerous stir inside her.

He offered his arm, and she took it. His touch was cool, steady, yet every nerve in her body lit up.

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The Blackwood Charity Gala was held in one of Manhattan’s grandest hotels — gold pillars, crystal chandeliers, the air thick with perfume and privilege. Every camera turned as they entered, every whisper followed them like shadows.

“Is that the new Mrs. Blackwood?”

“She’s stunning.”

“She looks… ordinary for him, doesn’t she?”

Ava heard it all but kept her chin high. Ethan’s hand rested lightly on the small of her back — a silent reminder that she wasn’t alone, even if this world wasn’t hers.

He leaned down slightly, his voice brushing her ear. “Smile. You’re doing fine.”

“Easy for you to say,” she murmured. “You were born for this.”

“And you weren’t?” His tone was teasing, but his eyes softened. “You’re handling it better than most would.”

Before she could reply, a woman approached — tall, elegant, wrapped in confidence. Her red lips curved in a knowing smile.

“Ethan,” she purred. “You never told me you got married.”

Ava felt his hand tighten slightly around hers. “Lydia,” he said flatly. “This is my wife, Ava.”

Lydia’s gaze flicked to Ava, sharp and assessing. “Wife,” she repeated, as if tasting the word. “How… sudden.”

Ava smiled politely. “Life’s full of surprises.”

Lydia’s smirk didn’t fade. “Indeed. Let’s hope this one lasts longer than the others.”

The air between them crackled. Ethan’s jaw tightened, but before he could speak, a photographer called out, “Mr. and Mrs. Blackwood, one photo please!”

Ethan pulled Ava close — closer than she expected — his arm wrapping firmly around her waist. The flash went off, but the real spark was the one between them.

For a heartbeat, she forgot the whispers, the deal, the rules. It felt real.

When the photo was done, Ethan leaned close enough for only her to hear. “You handled that well.”

Ava turned her face slightly toward him. “Was that a test?”

“Every night in this world is a test.”

And as the orchestra played, Ava realized something chilling — she wasn’t just playing his wife anymore. She was becoming her.

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