Third Person POVThe gala hall shimmered with golden light, a temple of wealth and power where laughter tinkled like crystal and every smile carried hidden knives. Diana clung to Gordon’s arm, the red gown a prison of silk and jewels, her heels making her taller but no less vulnerable."Come," Gordon murmured, guiding her across the crowded floor. His grip on her waist was iron. "There are people you need to meet."She didn’t reply. She’d learned by now that silence was safer.They approached a circle of men in tuxedos, cigars and whiskey in hand, their voices booming with the arrogance of those who had never known hunger or fear. One turned at their arrival, an older man, balding, with a heavy jaw and eyes that appraised Diana like a piece of merchandise."Walter," Gordon greeted smoothly, extending his hand. "It’s been too long.""Smith," the man replied, clapping Gordon’s palm with familiarity. His gaze slid immediately to Diana, lingering far too long. "And who," he drawled, "is t
Last Updated : 2025-09-18 Read more