Chapter 3

The misplaced Heiress

Gabriell drew in a slow breath, and slowly uttered the one thing that Miaelle never expected to come out of him.

“The recommendation letter…” he began quietly. “It came from Mia’s family.”

Miaelle blinked slowly. “What?”

“She made my dream come true when I was about to lose it after all that sacrifice.” Pausing, he gives Miaelle a pained look. “Without her, none of this would have happened.”

Miaelle searched his face, hoping—praying—that this wasn’t what she thought it was. But it was.

“So that’s it?” she whispered. “You chose her because of a recommendation letter?”

“No.” He shook his head. “I chose the future. Mia understands the life I’m trying to build.” His jaw tightened. “She belongs in it.”

His gaze met hers.

“You don’t. You can’t offer me the opportunities Mia can. The connections. The influence. You—you’re just a cleaner, you can’t do much in this world.”

He hesitated.

“And whether you realize it or not… you’d only embarrass me.”

Silence.

“You’d slow me down.”

And suddenly—everything clicked into place. It wasn’t about what mattered to her, it was about what mattered to him—his dream he’d been obsessed with ever since four years ago.

“I can still take care of you though. In the public eye, I can still be with Mia, and I’d compensate you handsomely.”

At the sound of that, Miaelle felt something inside her go numb. Her glossy eyes went cold. She stared straight at Gabriell, then at Mia.

A bitter smile tugged at her lips.

“She may look like me,” she said quietly, “but trust me… she won’t get you anywhere.”

She stepped closer, her voice dropping low enough that only those nearest could hear.

“And one day, Gabriell Keller…” Her smile vanished. “You’re going to regret this.”

Inside her Miaelle knew that she couldn’t match Mia’s wealth but she couldn’t stand to be humiliated like that—stand and listen to his unspoken suggestion of her being his mistress—the other woman. She had to say something.

Around her, whispers rippled through the ballroom.

“She’s still standing there…”

“Someone should take her away.”

“This is getting embarrassing.” a woman whispered nearby.

“Let her just let it go. What’s up with some people.” Another responds.

The ballroom seemed to spin. Every single person here was watching her humiliation unfold in real time. Miaelle became painfully aware of the hundreds of eyes fixed on her.

She looked at Gabriell. Then at Mia.

Mia’s eyes were filled with unshed tears, but Miaelle found she couldn’t bring herself to care anymore.

Without another word, she took one shaky step backward, turned and pushed through the crowd. Behind her, the whispers only grew louder.

Miaelle turned before anyone could stop her.

The ballroom doors flew open as she rushed into the hallway, her heels striking the polished marble in uneven rhythm. Tears blurred her vision, spilling freely down her cheeks. At least her mascara was waterproof.

She didn’t look back.

Not once.

If Gabriell called after her, she didn’t hear him. If he came after her… He didn’t— wouldn’t. No one did. The realization stung almost as much as his words.

She shoved open the grand entrance doors and stumbled into the night. A rush of cold air hit her flushed skin, sending a violent shiver through her body, but she barely felt it. Her chest burned with every breath as she ran blindly down the stone pathway, desperate to put as much distance between herself and the ballroom as possible.

Thunder cracked overhead, startling the night into silence. Miaelle flinched. The first rumble rolled across the darkness, heavy and foreboding, as though the heavens themselves were warning of the rain about to fall.

It was as if the heavens themselves had witnessed the scene inside. The wind whipped through her hair, but Miaelle never slowed. She wasn’t looking where she was going.

She never saw him. So when she slammed into something solid, the force knocked the breath from her lungs.

Except…Solid objects didn’t grunt.

A startled groan broke the silence.

Strong hands caught her before she could hit the ground, steadying her by the waist.

Miaelle gasped, her breathing ragged. “I’m… I’m sorry,” she whispered, barely able to get the words out.

She didn’t lift her head.

Couldn’t.

Not when tears were still slipping down her face.

A familiar scent lingered between them—something expensive, clean, and impossibly comforting. For the briefest moment, she stood there, frozen in the stranger’s grasp. Slowly, she looked up.

And immediately regretted it.

The man standing before her was unfairly attractive. Not in the polished, charming way men like Gabriell were attractive.

No.

This was something else entirely.

Sharp cheekbones. A strong jaw. Dark hair that looked slightly tousled despite the perfectly tailored suit wrapped around his broad frame. His features were striking enough to belong on a billboard somewhere.

Or a magazine.

The sort of face people remembered. The sort of face women probably fought over. His dark eyes settled on her calmly, giving nothing away.

The sudden flash of lightning painted the pathway in blinding white for the briefest second, another crack of thunder split the night, this one sharper—louder deep enough to vibrate beneath her feet.

And enough to have reality come rushing back. She pulled away so quickly she nearly stumbled again.

Without another word, she turned and ran into the darkness, disappearing and leaving behind nothing but the faint scent of her perfume… and one very confused man.