The gala was dazzling.
Crystal chandeliers bathed the room in gold, laughter floated over champagne glasses, and glittering gowns whispered secrets across the marble floor.
Zara stood poised in a deep emerald dress that shimmered every time she moved. Her makeup was bold. Her eyes—bolder. Tonight, she wasn't here as Aiden Knight's possession.
She was here as his equal.
Or so she thought.
Aiden hadn't said much all evening. His arm remained at her waist, his smile practiced. But something in his body was taut—like he knew something was coming. Like he was waiting for a storm he couldn't control.
And it arrived.
Wrapped in red.
Camille.
She waltzed in like a headline—perfect hair, predatory smile, and eyes that landed directly on Zara.
> "Oh, Zara. That's such a… brave dress," she purred, lifting her champagne flute. "Not everyone can pull off desperation with such elegance."
Gasps flickered across the circle of investors. Someone laughed awkwardly.
Zara didn't flinch. "Thanks. It must be so strange seeing someone wear confidence without trying to sleep their way into it."
Camille's smile didn't crack, but her fingers tightened on her glass.
> "Speaking of sleeping… shouldn't we ask your fiancé how many nights he really spent alone while you were 'learning obedience'?"
That landed.
Not just with the crowd.
But with Zara.
Her heart punched her ribs, breath stalling as eyes turned—judging, speculating, calculating.
She looked at Aiden.
He didn't deny it.
He didn't say a word.
And that was worse than anything Camille could've said.
---
Back at the mansion, silence was the loudest thing in the room.
Zara tore the earrings off as she paced, heels clacking against the tile like gunshots. Aiden stood by the window, unbothered. Untouchable.
> "So you just let her humiliate me?" she snapped.
He didn't look at her. "You didn't need me to defend you."
> "But you didn't deny it. You let them believe it."
He turned then, slow. Controlled.
> "Because I didn't owe them the truth."
Her laugh was hollow. "You don't owe anyone anything, right? Not even me."
> "Zara—"
> "No. You don't get to control this part."
She crossed the room in three furious steps.
> "You want me obedient. You want me yours. But the moment I need something real—respect, support, a damn sentence of defense—you vanish."
Aiden's jaw flexed. "You think I'm the villain here? I took you out of debt. I gave you power."
> "You collared me like a pet and expected me to thank you for the leash."
> "You liked the leash," he growled.
> "I liked you! Before I realized you only know how to love through control."
That hit.
Hard.
He stepped forward. Too close.
> "You think I don't care?"
> "I think you're scared to."
The air snapped like a wire stretched too tight.
He stared at her—eyes stormy, voice low.
> "I've ruined people for less than what you make me feel."
Zara blinked.
> "And I've walked away from better men who didn't make me question if I was a person or a possession."
She turned.
This time, he didn't stop her.
He watched the door close behind her.
And for the first time… he didn't feel powerful.
He felt hollow.
Like the rules he built his world on had finally betrayed him.
Zara didn't go far.
She didn't even leave the mansion.
She made it as far as the guest room at the end of the hall, the one she'd never dared to open before. But tonight, she did.
Not out of curiosity.
Out of survival.
She shut the door behind her, locked it, and collapsed onto the untouched sheets.
No tears.
Not yet.
Just the sound of her heartbeat thudding in her ears and the echo of Camille's voice ringing like venom through her skull.
> "Shouldn't we ask your fiancé how many nights he really spent alone while you were learning obedience?"
It wasn't the accusation that hurt.
It was the way Aiden let it hang there.
Like he wasn't sure if defending her was worth the price.
---
Meanwhile, Aiden stood in the same spot she left him.
Still. Rigid.
The silence swallowed him whole. His reflection in the glass stared back like a stranger.
He hated how empty the room felt without her voice.
Without her defiance.
Without her.
The phone buzzed again. That same message flashing across the screen.
> From: Unknown
Camille's been talking. You should clean this up before it gets messy.
He picked up the phone and threw it. The device slammed against the wall and shattered into pieces.
But the rage inside him didn't crack.
It boiled.
Because tonight had nothing to do with Camille.
It had everything to do with Zara walking away.
---
Hours passed.
The house didn't sleep.
Neither did they.
Zara lay on the guest bed, staring at the ceiling, every second dragging her further away from the girl who used to think desire was enough.
And Aiden?
He stood outside her door.
Fist raised. Knuckles hovering over the wood.
But he didn't knock.
Didn't speak.
He just stood there—one breath, then two, then twenty—before turning away.
He could punish her.
He could command her.
He could control her body.
But her heart?
That terrified him.
---
The next morning…
Zara walked into the kitchen, still in her gown from the night before, barefoot, with mascara smudged under her eyes like war paint.
Aiden was already there.
Dressed.
Composed.
Unapologetic.
> "I made coffee," he said.
She ignored it. Opened the fridge. Grabbed juice. Slammed it shut.
> "You're angry," he noted, sipping his own cup.
> "You're observant," she replied flatly.
He set the cup down.
> "You're still here."
> "Maybe I'm just waiting for the next flight."
His eyes narrowed. "Don't."
> "Don't what?" she snapped. "Say the truth? Ask the questions you won't answer?"
> "Don't threaten to leave."
> "Then give me a reason to stay."
Silence.
Long. Sharp. Final.
And still—he said nothing.
So she walked out.
Again.
But this time, she didn't look back.
---