Betrayed Heiress Strikes Back

Chapter 14

The Byrd estate buzzed with activity. Florists carried armfuls of white roses through the halls, caterers discussed menus in hushed tones, and Patrick Byrd’s voice carried from the study, sharp and commanding as he directed staff.

Kya stood at the top of the staircase, arms folded, watching the chaos unfold below. Her stomach twisted. This wasn’t what she wanted. She had asked for something small, private—family and close friends only. But her father had other plans.

“An engagement of this magnitude cannot be hidden,” Patrick declared, striding into the foyer. “You are marrying Julian Gray, heir to the Whitmore legacy. The city will expect a celebration worthy of the name.”

Kya’s jaw tightened. “I don’t care what the city expects. I care about what I want.”

Patrick’s eyes narrowed, but before he could reply, Julian appeared in the doorway. He wasn’t in his usual suit—today he wore a crisp shirt with the sleeves rolled up, casual but polished, his presence commanding without effort.

“Good morning,” Julian said smoothly, his tone lighter than usual. He glanced at Kya, his eyes softening for a moment before turning to Patrick. “I see preparations are already underway.”

Patrick’s expression eased at Julian’s arrival. “Yes. We must ensure the engagement party reflects the strength of this union.”

Julian’s gaze flicked back to Kya, catching the frustration in her eyes. He stepped closer, lowering his voice just enough for her to hear. “Don’t worry. I’ll handle him.”

Kya blinked, surprised at the warmth in his tone. He was friendlier again, softer in a way that disarmed her defenses.

“You don’t have to,” she whispered.

Julian’s lips curved faintly. “I want to.”

Patrick cleared his throat, oblivious to the quiet exchange. “We’ll invite the city’s elite, the press, the board members—”

“No,” Kya interrupted sharply. “This is my engagement, not a press conference. I won’t be paraded around like a trophy.”

Patrick’s face hardened, but Julian stepped in smoothly, his voice calm yet firm. “She’s right. The engagement party will be private. Family, close friends. Nothing more.”

Patrick’s eyes narrowed at Julian, but the authority in his tone left no room for argument. For the first time, Kya felt a flicker of relief—Julian wasn’t just her fiancé; he was her shield.

**

By evening, the Byrd estate gleamed under strings of crystal lights. The grand hall had been transformed—white roses lined the staircase, chandeliers shimmered above polished marble floors, and the air buzzed with anticipation.

Guests began to arrive, their laughter and whispers filling the space. Family friends, trusted board members, and a handful of carefully chosen allies mingled, glasses of champagne in hand. Kya descended the staircase slowly, her gown simple but elegant, her hair swept back to reveal the sharp line of her jaw. She looked every bit the poised fiancée, though inside her heart raced.

Julian was waiting at the bottom, dressed in a tailored black suit that contrasted with his casual warmth from the morning. When his eyes met hers, the corners of his lips curved faintly. He offered his hand, steady and deliberate.

“You look stunning,” he murmured as she reached him.

Kya’s cheeks warmed, though she kept her voice cool. “Don’t get used to it. I like plain shirts and jeans.”

Julian smirked, leaning closer. “You can wear a rag and still look beautiful.”

Kya avoided Julian's eyes but smiled.

Together, they moved through the crowd, whispers trailing behind them. Some admired, some speculated, others envied. Kya caught fragments—the Whitmore heir… the Byrd daughter… what a union this will be. She tightened her grip on Julian’s arm, reminding herself of her conditions: privacy, control, and her revenge.

Patrick Byrd raised a glass, his voice booming across the hall. “Tonight, we celebrate the engagement of my daughter, Kya Byrd, and Julian Gray. A union of strength, legacy, and promise.”

Applause rippled through the room, but beneath it, Kya felt the weight of eyes, the sting of gossip. She forced a smile, leaning subtly into Julian’s steady presence.

Then, as the applause faded, the doors at the far end of the hall opened.

A hush fell over the crowd.

Elena Carney stepped inside.

Her entrance was deliberate—silk gown flowing, chin lifted, eyes sharp as they swept across the room. Conversations stilled, champagne glasses paused mid‑air. The tension was palpable, every guest aware of the storm her presence carried.

Kya’s breath caught, her pulse quickening. Julian’s jaw tightened, his hand flexing against hers.

The engagement party had just shifted from celebration to confrontation.

“Why would the ex be invited?” one guest murmured, eyes darting toward Julian.

Another leaned closer, voice hushed but firm. “The Carneys have been old family friends of the Grays. She has every right to be here.”

Still, the tension was undeniable. Elena’s presence was a storm wrapped in silk.

Julian’s jaw tightened as he caught sight of her, but his expression remained composed. Kya, at his side, felt the weight of every stare. She straightened her shoulders, refusing to flinch.

Elena approached with a smile that was all sweetness, her tone dripping with false warmth. “Kya Byrd,” she said, extending her hand. “It’s such a pleasure to see you again.”

Kya accepted the handshake, her grip firm, her eyes steady. “Elena.”

Elena’s smile widened, though her eyes betrayed the desperation beneath. “Julian has spoken so highly of you. I must admit, I was curious to know how you captured his heart.”

Guests nearby leaned in, eager to catch every word. Kya’s lips curved faintly, her voice cool. “Captured? I wouldn’t put it that way.”

Elena laughed lightly, masking the sting. “Oh, don’t be modest. You must be extraordinary to win Julian over.”

Behind the sweetness, her mind raced. Elena didn’t know about Kya’s past. But she was determined to dig, to find something, anything, that could stop the wedding.

She leaned closer, her voice soft, her smile unwavering. “I do hope we’ll be friends. After all, we’ll be seeing quite a lot of each other in and out of the office.”

Kya held her gaze, recognizing the venom beneath the honeyed words. “Friends?” she repeated, her tone sharp but polite. “Hmm.”

Julian’s hand tightened around Kya’s, his eyes flicking briefly to Elena. He knew her game. He knew her desperation. And he knew this was only the beginning.

The whispers grew louder, the tension thicker. The engagement party had become a battlefield dressed in silk and champagne.

The orchestra shifted into a slower melody, violins weaving through the air like silk. Couples began to move toward the center of the grand hall, laughter softening into murmurs as the first notes filled the space.

Julian turned to Kya, his hand extending with quiet certainty. “Dance with me.”

Kya hesitated, her eyes flicking toward the crowd. Dozens of eyes lingered on them—admiring, judging, whispering. And somewhere near the edge of the room, Elena Carney stood with her champagne glass, her smile poised, her gaze sharp.

Still, Kya placed her hand in Julian’s. His grip was firm, steady, pulling her gently into the center of the floor.

The moment they began to move, the noise of the room seemed to fade. Julian’s hand rested at her waist, guiding her effortlessly, his steps smooth and deliberate. Kya followed, her gown flowing with each turn, her heart racing not from the music but from the closeness of him.

“You’re tense,” Julian murmured, his voice low, meant only for her.

“Everyone’s watching,” she whispered back.

“Let them,” he replied, his eyes locked on hers. “Tonight, it’s just us.”

Kya’s cheeks warmed, her pulse quickening as his words sank in. She tried to look away, but his gaze held her, steady and unyielding. For a moment, she forgot the whispers, the gossip, even Elena’s piercing stare.

Around them, guests murmured in admiration. “They look perfect together,” someone sighed. Another whispered, “No wonder Julian chose her.”

But not all voices were kind. Near the edge, Elena’s smile tightened as she watched them glide across the floor. She lifted her glass, masking her bitterness with elegance. That should have been me, she thought, her mind racing with ways to reclaim what she believed was hers.

Julian leaned closer, his breath brushing against Kya’s ear. “Are you excited for our wedding?”

Kya’s lips curved faintly, though she tried to hide it. “I don’t know. Should I be?”

Julian smirked, his tone teasing but warm. “I think you’ll like being married to me.”

Kya smiled a little, thinking about the 'laidback' Julian. “We’ll see.”

The music swelled, their steps in perfect sync, and for a fleeting moment, Kya felt safe—shielded by Julian’s presence, wrapped in the illusion of something sweet and inevitable.

But as the song ended and applause rippled through the hall, her eyes caught Elena’s across the room. The smile on Elena’s lips was sweet, but her gaze was venom.

The dance had ended, but the battle was only beginning.

**

The orchestra shifted into a livelier tune, couples laughing as they spun across the polished floor. Kya and Julian had just stepped aside from their dance when Elena Carney glided toward them, her silk gown trailing like liquid light.

Her smile was flawless, her tone sweet. “Julian,” she said warmly, touching his arm with a familiarity that made several guests raise their brows. “It’s been far too long since we danced together. You dance beautifully, as always.”

Julian’s expression remained composed, though his jaw tightened.

Elena turned, her smile widening as if she hadn’t already greeted her. “And Kya, you were radiant out there. Truly. You and Julian move so well together.”

Kya inclined her head, her voice cool. “Thank you.”

Nearby, whispers stirred again. “Look at her— acting as if nothing ever happened.”

“She still thinks she has a claim on him.”

“The Carneys have always been close to the Grays although I haven't seen them out together in the last year. Knowing Elena though, she won’t let go easily.”

Elena’s eyes flicked back to Julian, her tone light but edged. “You always did prefer strong partners. I suppose that hasn’t changed.”

Julian’s hand tightened at Kya’s waist, his gaze steady. “It hasn’t.”

Elena laughed softly, masking the sting. “Well, I’m glad you’ve found someone who suits you. The city will be thrilled.” She sipped her champagne, her eyes glinting. “Though I imagine it will take some getting used to. Change always does.”

Kya caught the undertone, the subtle dig wrapped in sweetness. She smiled faintly, refusing to flinch. “Some changes are worth it.”

Julian’s lips curved, his voice low but firm. “Exactly.”

Elena’s smile didn’t falter, but her gaze lingered on Kya, sharp beneath the honey. She was desperate, but she hid it well— every word a test, every compliment a blade disguised as silk.

The music swelled again, and guests drifted back toward the dance floor. Elena excused herself with a graceful nod, moving toward another cluster of guests. But her eyes never left them.