Chapter 4:
The ballroom glittered like a lie.
Crystal chandeliers, champagne laughter, silk gowns—everything was beautiful. Too beautiful for how I felt inside.
Ethan's hand rested lightly on the small of my back as we stepped into the charity gala. Cameras flashed instantly.
"Smile," he murmured without looking at me.
I did.
It felt like my face might crack.
"Mr. Blackwood!" someone called. "Is this your wife?"
Ethan's grip tightened—just a little.
"Yes," he said smoothly. "My wife."
The word sent a strange ache through my chest.
People surrounded us, questions flying, compliments pouring in. Ethan was flawless—charming, confident, untouchable. I played my part, nodded when expected, smiled when required.
Then I noticed her.
Tall. Beautiful. Elegant in a silver gown. She looked at Ethan like she knew him far too well.
Her gaze flicked to me, sharp and assessing.
"Ethan," she said warmly, stepping closer. "You didn't tell me you were married."
I felt his body stiffen beside me.
"Things changed," he replied coolly.
Her eyes lingered on his arm—on my hand resting there. "I see."
Jealousy burned hot and unexpected in my chest. I hated it. Hated that it mattered.
Ethan leaned closer to me, his lips brushing my ear—not a kiss, but close enough to make my breath hitch.
"Don't overthink it," he whispered.
Too late.
The woman smiled politely before walking away, but the damage was done.
"Who was that?" I asked quietly once we were alone.
"Someone from my past," he replied.
"That's all?" I pressed.
His eyes darkened. "That's all you need to know."
Pain twisted inside me—sharp and unreasonable. I had no right to feel this way. This was a contract. A performance.
Yet when another man approached me moments later, complimenting my dress, Ethan's arm slipped around my waist instantly. Possessive. Claiming.
"She's with me," Ethan said, his voice calm—but final.
The man backed off.
I looked up at Ethan, stunned.
"You didn't have to—"
"Yes, I did," he interrupted.
We stood there, too close, his hand still on my waist. The music swelled around us, the world fading.
For a moment, he looked at me like he was about to forget everything he ever promised himself.
His thumb brushed my skin.
My heart raced.
"Ethan…" I whispered.
He leaned in.
I thought—this is it.
But at the last second, he stopped, his forehead resting against mine, his breath warm and uneven.
"This is dangerous," he said hoarsely.
"Then why does it hurt when you pull away?" I asked.
He closed his eyes.
Because he didn't pull away right away.
And when he finally did, it felt like something inside me broke quietly—where no one could see.
Everyone was watching.
But only we knew how close we had come.