Maya Anderson woke to sunlight spilling across white linen and the faint hum of Cristalvale stirring below her balcony. For a moment, she stayed still, listening—traffic swelling like a distant tide, a siren far away, the city breathing itself awake. Mornings like this always felt full of promise. As if anything could happen, and most of it would be good.
She turned her head and smiled.
Brandon Steele lay beside her, one arm flung carelessly above his head, dark hair artfully disheveled in a way that never seemed accidental. Even asleep, he looked like the man magazines loved—wealth carved into posture, confidence etched into bone. The man she was going to marry.
Maya slipped quietly from the bed, careful not to wake him. Today mattered. Tonight especially.
The engagement party was only hours away.
She padded into the bathroom, catching her reflection in the mirror as she brushed her teeth. Long auburn hair tumbled over one shoulder, still messy from sleep. Emerald eyes—her mother's—studied her back with quiet familiarity. She looked… normal. Not the kind of woman who turned heads without trying. Just Maya. The girl from Willowbrook Heights who worked too hard, trusted too deeply, and believed in love because she needed to.
She dressed simply—tailored trousers, a soft blouse, low heels. Brandon had once teased her for not "dressing like a future Steele." She'd laughed it off. He hadn't meant anything by it.
Had he?
The thought flickered and disappeared as she stepped into the kitchen. Brandon was awake now, leaning against the counter, phone in hand, already halfway into a call.
"Yes, I'll handle it," he said smoothly, eyes lifting to meet hers. He smiled. "Send me the numbers."
He hung up and crossed the space between them, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Morning, fiancée."
"Morning," Maya said, warmth blooming in her chest. "Work already?"
"Always." He poured coffee, slid a mug toward her. "You nervous about tonight?"
"A little," she admitted. "Your friends are… intimidating."
Brandon laughed. "They'll love you. You're brilliant, Maya. I keep telling you that."
She flushed despite herself.
That was how he always did it—said the right thing at the right moment, just enough reassurance to quiet the small voice inside her that asked whether she truly belonged in his world.
They ate together in companionable silence. Brandon checked his phone more than usual, but she didn't comment. Venture capital never slept. She knew that. She respected it.
At Zenith Communications, the office buzzed with its usual controlled chaos. Maya moved through it with practiced ease, greeting colleagues, already fielding questions before she reached her desk. She loved this part of her life—the clarity of goals, the satisfaction of execution. Here, effort mattered. Results spoke louder than surnames.
"Maya," her manager called, poking his head over the partition. "That campaign you pitched? The board loved it."
Relief and pride washed through her. "That's great news."
"Enjoy tonight," he added with a grin. "Engaged life suits you."
She smiled, but something tugged faintly at her chest.
Victoria Chen arrived just before lunch, heels clicking sharply against the tile. Perfect hair. Perfect smile. Perfect timing.
"There she is," Victoria said brightly, looping an arm through Maya's. "The woman of the hour."
"Please don't start," Maya laughed. "I already feel like I'm walking into a spotlight."
"You are," Victoria said. "And you deserve it."
They ate together, as they always did. Victoria talked about fashion, connections, the guest list for the party. She spoke about Brandon, too—how lucky Maya was, how powerful their future would be together.
"You'll never have to worry again," Victoria said, stirring her drink. "That kind of security changes everything."
Maya frowned slightly. "I've never worried about money."
Victoria's smile tightened for half a second. "Of course not. I just mean… love is easier when life is comfortable."
Maya let it pass.
By evening, the city transformed. Lights shimmered across glass towers. Valets lined the entrance to Sapphire Heights' most exclusive venue, where Maya and Brandon's engagement party unfolded in soft gold and crystal.
Maya stood at the edge of the room, heart fluttering as applause broke out. Brandon had just finished his speech—polished, charming, effortless.
"And none of this," he concluded, gesturing broadly, "would mean anything without Maya."
Applause swelled again. Cameras flashed. Maya stepped forward, smile fixed, accepting kisses and congratulations. Brandon's hand rested on the small of her back, possessive and reassuring all at once.
This is real, she told herself. This happiness. This future.
Yet as the night wore on, cracks appeared—tiny, almost invisible.
Brandon disappeared more than once, always with an excuse. A call. A meeting. A problem only he could solve. Victoria seemed to know where he was before Maya asked. Their eyes met across the room too often, lingering a beat too long.
At one point, Maya searched for Brandon near the balcony. She stopped short when she heard his voice—low, urgent.
"Not tonight," he said. "You promised."
A woman laughed softly. Familiar. Too familiar.
Maya's pulse quickened.
She stepped forward, just as Brandon turned, surprise flashing across his face before smoothing into charm.
"There you are," he said. "I was looking for you."
Behind him, Victoria adjusted her bracelet, eyes unreadable.
"Everything okay?" Maya asked.
"Perfect," Brandon replied.
Victoria smiled. "Perfect."
Maya smiled back, even as unease curled quietly in her stomach.
The music swelled. Glasses clinked. Laughter rose.
And above it all, unseen and unheard, something waited.