Chapter 15: The Red Carpet Mirage

[ SAMANTHA'S POV ]

The door swung open, and the quiet, dark safety of the limousine was ripped away.

A wall of noise hit me first. It wasn't just loud; it was a physical wave of sound that made my ears ring and my chest tighten. Hundreds of people were screaming at the top of their lungs, shouting my name, calling for David, and begging us to look their way.

Then came the light.

A blinding, solid sheet of white flashes exploded in front of my face. For a second, my eyes burned, and my vision went completely black, filled with blurry blue spots. The cool night air rushed into the back of the car, but it felt too thin to breathe. My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird, wild and frantic. I wanted to shrink back into the leather seats. I wanted to pull the dark shadows of the car over me and hide.

But David didn't let go of my hand.

He kept his fingers locked tightly with mine. His grip was solid, warm, and completely unyielding. He stepped out of the car first, his broad shoulders instantly blocking the worst of the flashing lights. He didn't look back, but he gave my hand a gentle, firm pull. It was a silent command.

Get out. Walk.

I swallowed the lump of dry fear in my throat, took a deep breath, and stepped out.

The moment my high heel touched the soft red carpet, the crowd went wild. The shouting grew twice as loud.

"David! Over here!"

"Samantha! Look to your left!"

Before I could even find my balance on the thin heels, David’s hand slid away from mine. In an instant, his large, heavy palm pressed flat against my waist. His fingers dug firmly into the midnight-blue silk of my dress, pulling me tightly against his side. The grip was like an iron vice. He held me so close I could feel the hard line of his thigh against mine. To the cameras, it looked like a passionate, protective embrace. It looked like a man who couldn't bear to be an inch away from his beautiful wife.

To me, it was a lock. He was letting me know exactly who owned me tonight.

My body went stiff, a cold wave of anger washing through my veins. I wanted to push him away. I wanted to scream at him to take his hands off me. But then I pictured Sophia. I pictured her kind face, the way she had looked at me when David threatened to destroy her entire life.

I have to do this, I told myself. Smile. Just smile.

I forced my lips to curve upward. I tilted my head back and looked up at David, forcing my eyes to look soft, bright, and completely in love. My face ached from the effort, the muscles in my cheeks tight and strained, but I kept the smile perfectly still. I refused to let these people see the shaking in my knees. I refused to let them see my terror.

David kept a steady, powerful pace, guiding me along the velvet rope. The paparazzi were pressed hard against the metal barriers, their bodies leaning over to get closer. The white flashes were constant, hot, and dizzying.

A female reporter with a bright blue microphone leaned over the rope, her eyes wide with excitement.

"Mr. Kingsley! Is the marriage a sudden publicity stunt to save the stock price?" she yelled, trying to block our path.

David didn't even blink. His pace didn't slow down by a single fraction. He kept his arm tight around me, his voice ringing out smooth, steady, and perfectly calm.

"Our marriage is entirely private," David said, his deep voice easily cutting through the noise. He looked down at me, a soft, rehearsed smile on his handsome face. "But as you can see, my wife is the only story that matters to me tonight."

"Mrs. Kingsley! How does it feel to suddenly marry into the city’s wealthiest family?" another journalist shouted from the right.

I kept my smile bright, looking directly into the camera lens. I squeezed David’s waist back, pretending to be playful, though my fingers wanted to claw through his tuxedo jacket.

"It feels like a dream," I lied, my voice sweet, light, and airy. I forced a quiet, happy laugh to escape my lips. "I am incredibly lucky."

"And so am I," David added seamlessly.

He leaned down and pressed a slow, lingering kiss to my temple. His breath was warm against my cold skin, but his grip on my waist tightened, a silent warning to keep the act going. The cameras flashed twice as fast, capturing the perfect picture of a hopelessly in love couple. Every step on this carpet felt like walking on thin ice, but I kept my chin high and my face serene.

We finally reached the massive, towering glass doors of the grand hotel. Two security guards in crisp black uniforms bowed and pushed the heavy doors open. The warm, quiet air of the lobby rushed out to meet us, smelling of fresh lilies and expensive wax.

We stepped through, and the heavy glass doors shut behind us, cutting the roaring noise of the paparazzi in half.

The lobby was a masterpiece of towering marble pillars and glittering crystal chandeliers that hung from the high ceiling like frozen water. The soft, elegant sound of a classical orchestra drifted from the main ballroom.

"Ah, David! There you are," a deep, booming voice called out.

An older man with silver hair and a tailored charcoal suit walked toward us, holding a glass of champagne. Next to him was a younger, sharp-eyed investor in a silk tuxedo.

"Mr. Joel," David said. His voice instantly shifted into his cold, professional business tone. He kept his hand firmly on the small of my back, his fingers tracing a small circle against the silk of my dress. "Allow me to introduce my wife, Samantha."

Mr. Joel’s eyes swept over me. I could feel his gaze assessing the flawless midnight-blue dress, my perfect hair, and the pristine makeup hiding the purple bruise on my jaw. He smiled warmly, raising his glass.

"Stunning," Mr. Joel murmured. "The rumors did not do you justice, Mrs. Kingsley. David is a very fortunate man."

"Thank you, Mr. Joel," I said. I offered a polite, elegant nod, keeping my voice soft and dignified. "It is a pleasure to meet you."

"We were just discussing the new shipping ports in Europe" the younger investor began, but he was cut off by a sharp, vibrating buzz.

David reached into his tuxedo jacket and pulled out his phone. He stared at the screen, and I watched the tiny muscle in his jaw clench. His eyes darkened. It was a call he couldn't ignore.

"Excuse me for a moment, gentlemen," David said, his voice dropping to a low, commanding tone. He looked down at me, his dark eyes locking onto mine with a heavy, silent warning. Do not move. Do not make a scene. "I need to take this. Samantha, stay right here."

"Of course," I replied smoothly, keeping my face blank.

As soon as David turned his back and walked toward a quieter hallway to answer the phone, my smile completely vanished. The heavy, fake mask slipped off my face, leaving me feeling hollow and exhausted. My throat was dry, like sand, and the tension of the last hour had left a dull, aching hunger in my stomach.

I looked around the grand room, trying to find a way to escape the prying eyes of the other guests. Near the entrance of the ballroom stood a massive, beautifully decorated table. It was covered in delicate, glowing ice sculptures and dozens of silver plates filled with miniature, elegant cakes meant for the guests.

Needing a distraction, and wanting to get away from Mr. Joel's curious eyes, I walked over to the table. I picked up a small, beautifully iced strawberry pastry. I didn't even want to eat it; I just wanted something to hold so my hands would stop shaking.

"Well, well. Look what the cat dragged in."

A sharp, mocking voice cut through the quiet air behind me.

I froze, the pastry halfway to my lips. My heart skipped a beat, a cold dread pooling in my stomach. I slowly turned around.

Standing just feet away were three young women in glittering designer gowns. Their necks and wrists were draped in heavy, sparkling diamonds, and their eyes were sharp, cold, and hungry. They looked at my midnight-blue dress, their gazes dripping with disdain, before looking up at my face. Their lips curled into cruel, mocking smiles.

They were the high-society heiresses. And they were walking straight toward me, ready to tear me to pieces.