"And with us tonight is Emma Blackwood," the man said, gesturing toward their table with a grand sweep of his hand. "Wife of Alexander Blackwood, and a woman whose growing contributions to charitable causes deserve our attention."
Applause rippled through the room like polite rain. Emma's chest tightened. She forced a smile, the kind that didn't reach her eyes, and gave a small nod. All eyes were on her.
It was the kind of gaze that stripped layers not her clothes, but her confidence. Like she was a placeholder in a room full of people who already knew the ending to a story she'd only just been handed the first chapter of.
Alexander led her through the crowd with the poise of someone born into this world. He smiled politely at donors, exchanged firm handshakes with men in tuxedos who smelled like old money, and nodded at women who looked like they'd walked off fashion magazine covers.
Emma held her own, chin high, shoulders back.
But her mind was on Celeste.
From across the room, Celeste lifted her champagne flute, her mouth curled in that same serpent smile as earlier. But now, there was something else behind it a quiet fury laced with amusement. Like she hadn't expected Emma to hold her own, and yet here she was.
They reached their table near the front of the ballroom, beside a stage where a tall, balding man spoke into a microphone about philanthropy, legacy, and giving back to the city. Emma tuned most of it out until she heard her name.
Emma Blackwood, the man said, gesturing toward their table. "Newly wed to our very own Alexander Blackwood."
Applause.
Emma's hand trembled slightly under the table, She smiled, poised, her hand resting lightly over Alexander's on the table. For a second, she thought she felt him relax under her touch.
Alexander noticed.
He leaned in. "You handled that well."
"Is that praise?" she whispered, eyes still locked on the stage.
"A fact," he murmured.
The moment was broken by the arrival of a waiter, offering them champagne. Emma declined, her appetite gone. She didn't need bubbles in her veins. She needed clarity.
Celeste wasn't just trying to rattle her. She was making a point.
Seated just across the room. Champagne glass in hand. Dressed in beautiful red dress that clung to her like a second skin. She raised her glass toward Emma in mock congratulations.
Emma held her gaze.
No flinch. No blink. Just steady fire behind her eyes.
If this was war, she was done being the quiet girl in the background.
Emma had stepped into a role Celeste once claimed and the ghost of that role still walked freely among them, dressed in red.
As the speeches continued, Emma excused herself. She needed air, space, something that wasn't laced in perfume and pretense. The hallway outside the ballroom was quieter, dimly lit, lined with gilded mirrors and velvet benches.
She let herself breathe.
Then she heard it.
Heels.
Clicking, slow, deliberate.
Celeste.
She leaned against the wall as if she'd been waiting. Her expression was unreadable.
"No security?" Celeste asked lightly. "You really are new to this game."
"You clean up well,"
She didn't turn. "Is this the part where you compliment me, then threaten me?"
Celeste chuckled. "No threats tonight. I'm just curious. What's it like playing house with a man you barely know?"
Emma turned slowly, her face calm but her heart racing. "Probably the same as pretending you don't still want him."
That stopped Celeste just a flicker. But enough.
"I'm not here for Alexander," she said coldly.
Emma arched a brow. "Could've fooled me."
"I'm here for what's mine," Celeste continued, stepping closer. "And believe me, sweetheart, you're standing in the middle of it."
Emma didn't step back. "Then you'll have to go through me."
For a beat, neither woman moved. Then Celeste leaned in just enough for her voice to be a breath against Emma's ear.
"You're not ready for the kind of games I play."
Emma met her gaze, unblinking. "Then maybe it's time someone changed the rules
Emma folded her arms. "What do you want?"
Celeste smiled. "You're already learning. Good. But don't confuse wearing the crown with knowing how to keep it."
Emma stepped forward. "You've had your moment. I'm not here to play chess with you."
"Oh, sweetheart," Celeste said with a soft, dangerous laugh. "This isn't chess. It's war. And you married the battlefield."
Emma's jaw clenched. "Whatever you think you're planning"
Celeste cut in smoothly. "It's already started."
A pause stretched between them.
Then Celeste's voice dropped, low and venom laced.
"You think you know Alexander? You don't. He's lied to you about things I bled for. About how this whole empire started. About what he did to keep it."
Emma's heart pounded.
Celeste pushed off the wall, walking past her slowly. "Be careful, Emma. Sometimes the man you love isn't the hero in the story. He's the reason the villain exists."
With that, she was gone.
Emma stood there for a long moment, breathing hard. Then turned and walked back into the ballroom.
Inside, Alexander was waiting near the table, talking with an older couple. His eyes met hers as soon as she walked back in.
And something shifted.
Alexander was watching her. As if he knew she'd run into Celeste.
She took her seat beside him without a word.
But her mind was racing.
Because Celeste hadn't just threatened her marriage.
She'd threatened the story Emma thought she was living.
And now?
She wasn't sure who to trust.
Not even the man sitting beside her.
He excused himself quickly and turned to her side.
"You okay?" he asked.
Emma nodded slowly. "She's not done."
"I know."
"But I'm not afraid," she said.
"You should be."
Emma met his gaze. "Then tell me the whole truth. No more shielding. No more fragments. If I'm in this, I'm in it."
His jaw clenched, but he nodded. "Then after tonight we talk. Everything."
A swell of music rose in the background as the charity host returned to the stage.
"Ladies and gentlemen, the night's final presentation will be from Mr. and Mrs. Blackwood."
Emma blinked. "What?"
Alexander looked at her with mild surprise. "Marissa must've added that."
Too late now.
He offered his hand. "Ready?"
Emma stared at it for a beat then took it.
They walked to the stage together, the picture of a perfect couple, as cameras flashed and eyes followed.
But under the gold lights and applause, Emma knew one thing.
ore.
It was war. And the first real battle had just begun