The engagement announcement

The moment I stepped into the Knight Tower’s grand ballroom, the breath caught in my throat. 

The ceiling glittered with a thousand crystals from chandeliers that seemed to touch the heavens themselves. 

It wasn’t just a party. It wasn’t even just a business gathering. This was a spectacle, the kind of event that 

dominated headlines and made people whisper for weeks. Of course it was—because Alexander Knight never did anything small. 

And tonight, the entire city would watch as he announced our engagement.

I wanted to vanish. My palms were slick inside the delicate silk gloves that matched my gown. 

A stylist had dressed me in an ivory sheath dress that clung to every curve. Diamonds sparkled at my ears, 

an heirloom necklace—his family’s—resting at my collarbone. Every piece felt like a chain. 

Each shimmer, each sparkle, a reminder that I was no longer free. I was stepping into his world, 

a glittering cage dressed in silk and gold.

“Smile,” came Alexander’s smooth voice at my side. His hand slid possessively across my back, 

fingers spreading just above my hip. “They’re all watching.”

I forced my lips into something that resembled grace. Cameras flashed. Whispers rippled. 

The city’s wealthiest, most powerful families crowded the marble floor, champagne flutes in hand, 

waiting for the spectacle to begin.

Inside, my stomach churned. Every step I took beside him, every nod to the smiling strangers, 

was a betrayal of the truth I carried in my heart. Ethan. My sweet boy. My secret. 

I prayed no one here would ever connect the dots, prayed my double life could hold together 

under the crushing weight of Alexander’s world.

“You look exquisite,” Alexander murmured, leaning close enough that his lips brushed my ear. 

The heat of him sent an involuntary shiver through me. “Just as I remember.”

I hated that my body responded to him, that my chest tightened with something other than fear. 

I turned my head slightly, whispering through a tight smile. “Remember? This isn’t about memories. 

It’s about business. Don’t confuse the two.”

His chuckle was low, dangerous. “Oh, Isabella. You think I can separate them? You’ve always been 

both my weakness and my ambition.”

I didn’t get to reply. The host tapped the microphone, the sound echoing sharply through the hall. 

All eyes turned to the stage where the announcer, a sleek man in a black tuxedo, raised his glass. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, tonight we celebrate not just the empire of Knight International, 

but the union of two powerful families. Please welcome Alexander Knight and his bride-to-be, 

Isabella Reyes.”

Applause thundered like rolling waves. My throat tightened. Alexander guided me forward, 

his hand firm, unyielding at the small of my back. Step by step, I moved beside him, 

each footfall heavier than the last.

He raised our joined hands, the flawless diamond on my finger catching the light. 

Flashes erupted. Gasps of admiration echoed. I felt like I was drowning.

Alexander took the microphone. His voice was calm, commanding. “Tonight, I introduce to you 

the woman who has always been mine. Fate delayed us, but destiny has brought her back. 

Isabella Reyes, my fiancée, my future, my forever.”

His words sliced through me. Forever. A vow, a prison, a promise, all at once. 

The crowd erupted again, champagne glasses lifted high. I tried to keep my breathing steady, 

but my chest rose and fell too quickly. Every camera lens seemed to pierce straight into my secret. 

What if Ethan’s face—those same gray eyes—ever appeared on one of these screens?

As Alexander leaned down and brushed a chaste kiss against my cheek, 

a sharp laugh rang out from the crowd. “So the ice king finally melts,” a woman’s voice purred. 

I turned and saw her—tall, blonde, striking in a crimson gown. Her eyes, however, 

burned with something venomous. She raised her glass with a mocking smirk. 

“Congratulations, Isabella. You must be extraordinary to catch what so many could not.”

The crowd tittered. Heat rushed up my neck, shame and rage twisting inside me. 

Before I could muster a reply, Alexander’s grip tightened. His gaze cut through the crowd, 

a warning so sharp it silenced the room. “Careful,” he said smoothly, the smile never leaving his lips. 

“Jealousy isn’t flattering.”

The woman’s smirk faltered. She lowered her glass, her shoulders stiff. 

Alexander turned back to me, his touch firm, protective, possessive. 

In that moment, the whispers around us turned into something else—admiration. 

But to me, it only deepened the truth. I was his possession, his claim staked for the world to see.

The rest of the night blurred into flashes of conversation, fake smiles, and the constant 

burn of Alexander’s touch on my back. Inside, though, I warred with myself. 

The memory of his lips brushing mine. The anger at his control. The dread that Ethan’s secret 

could spill at any moment. And the terrifying truth I could no longer deny—

that a part of me still burned for him.

When the crowd finally began to thin, Alexander guided me to the balcony, 

away from the lingering guests. The cool night air rushed over my skin, 

a relief after the suffocating ballroom. The city sparkled below, alive and endless. 

He stood behind me, his presence filling the silence.

“You handled yourself well tonight,” he said softly. “Even when they tried to cut you down.”

I turned, meeting his gaze. “I don’t want their approval. Or yours.”

His eyes darkened, a storm brewing. He stepped closer, the space between us vanishing. 

“Then what do you want, Isabella? Freedom? You had it once. You chose to give it up. 

Now you’re mine again, and I don’t plan on letting you go.”

My heart thundered. My lips parted, a thousand words clawing to escape. 

But none came. Because in that moment, staring at him under the starlight, 

I couldn’t tell where my hatred ended and my longing began.

And he saw it. I knew he did. The flicker of victory in his eyes told me as much. 

He leaned down, his mouth brushing mine—dangerously close, suffocatingly near. 

“Smile for me again, Isabella,” he whispered. “Not for them. For me.”

I hated myself for obeying.