The ballroom of the Grand Ravelle Hotel shimmered under a thousand crystal lights. Gilded walls stretched toward a painted ceiling depicting mythological gods, as if mocking the mortals beneath them who wore masks of charm, power, and deception.
Elena stepped out of the car, her silver gown catching the light with every movement. It clung to her body in a way that was elegant and daring, with a slit running up her leg and a delicate open back held together by jeweled clasps. She had styled her hair in soft waves, her makeup sultry but refined.
Tonight, she wasn't just the wife of Lucien Blake.
She was a woman of power—and she would command the room like she belonged in it.
Lucien emerged beside her, impeccably dressed in a custom black tuxedo. He extended his arm, and Elena looped hers through it. To the world, they were the perfect couple. The power pair.
But beneath the poised exteriors, their hearts beat faster—for different reasons.
One for survival.One for revenge.And both for the unknown.
As they entered the ballroom, a hush followed them.
Not from fear.
From curiosity.
The tabloids had fed off their marriage for months. First, the cold business deal. Then, the rumors of separation. And now? Now they were walking in side by side, closer than ever.
Elena smiled politely, playing the part.
Lucien leaned in slightly. "You're too calm for someone who might be assassinated with champagne tonight."
She glanced at him sideways. "You're too calm for someone who might have to use me as a human shield."
He chuckled under his breath. "You'd probably push me in front of the bullet first."
"Depends on the day," she murmured, sipping from the glass handed to her.
Camille appeared beside them, her black gown fierce and sharp-angled. "Smile. The leeches are watching."
"They always are," Lucien said.
She gave him a tight nod. "Our mole could be here tonight. I've narrowed it down to three possibilities—two in the corporate security division, one from your father's old legal team."
Elena's stomach twisted. "What do you need us to do?"
Camille's eyes glittered. "Act like bait."
The night moved like a game of chess.
Lucien greeted investors. Elena charmed society elites. Camille circulated like a ghost—silent, unnoticed, but never idle.
Then it happened.
A waiter passed by Elena, subtly slipping a small folded note into her gloved hand. She opened it discreetly beneath the table as Lucien distracted the guests.
"Meet me in the west corridor. Ten minutes. I know who wants you dead."
There was no signature.
Just a time.
Elena didn't hesitate.
She excused herself and made her way down the west corridor, her heels clicking against the marble floor in rhythm with her heart. The hallway was empty, lit only by antique sconces and the faint hum of violins echoing from the ballroom.
She reached the windowed alcove where the hall turned.
A figure stepped out from the shadows.
"Elena," the woman whispered.
Elena narrowed her eyes. "Harper?"
Harper Lin. A former Blake Industries analyst. She had disappeared three months ago under mysterious circumstances.
"I don't have long," Harper said. "They're watching. You need to listen carefully."
"I'm listening," Elena said, wary.
Harper looked over her shoulder, paranoid. "They didn't just want leverage over Lucien. They wanted access to the Horizon servers through you."
"I don't even have access—"
"But you will," Harper interrupted. "Once your name appears as a trustee on Blake's merger clause. That's in fourteen days. They'll make another move before then."
Elena felt the weight settle in her chest.
"What do they want from the servers?"
Harper's voice trembled. "The encryption key. There's an algorithm hidden in the code. Military-level AI."
Elena blinked. "AI? I thought it was defense logistics."
Harper gave a bitter laugh. "That's the lie they fed the shareholders. It's far more dangerous. Think autonomous control. Global surveillance. Whoever owns that algorithm doesn't just dominate markets—they dominate nations."
And suddenly, it made sense.
Why she had been targeted. Why she had been married into this.
Why someone had tried to kill her in Shanghai.
A soft click behind them broke the silence.
The unmistakable sound of a gun.
Harper froze. Elena turned slowly.
A man in a hotel server's uniform stood at the end of the hall, his expression cold, the gun steady in his grip.
"I'm sorry," he said, not looking sorry at all. "This is the part where you disappear again, Ms. Lin."
Harper stepped protectively in front of Elena.
"No," Elena whispered. "Don't."
But it was too late.
The shot rang out.
Elena screamed as Harper collapsed, blood staining the silk floor tiles. The man turned the gun on her—but before he could shoot again, a blur tackled him from the side.
Lucien.
He had followed her.
The gun skidded across the floor. The two men fought viciously, Lucien's rage explosive and efficient. A hard punch to the temple knocked the assailant unconscious.
"Elena!" Lucien shouted, running to her. "Are you hurt?"
"I—I'm okay," she said, still shaking. "But Harper—"
Lucien checked her pulse.
Faint. But alive.
"Camille!" he shouted into his earpiece. "I need emergency extraction, west corridor. Get my medical team now."
By the time security arrived, the attacker had been restrained, Harper was being stabilized, and Lucien hadn't let go of Elena's hand for even a second.
They rode back to the Blake estate in silence, Elena wrapped in a cashmere coat, Lucien's arm around her protectively.
She hadn't realized she was crying until he wiped a tear from her cheek.
"You saved my life," she whispered.
Lucien didn't respond immediately.
Then, softly: "It wasn't a question. It was instinct."
And for Elena, that changed everything.
Not just because of what he'd done—but why he had done it.
She wasn't just a pawn to Lucien anymore.
She was something more.
Something real.