The chandelier lights of the Grand Monarch Hotel glittered like captured stars, spilling golden warmth over the vast ballroom. The place was alive with the pulse of the city’s elite bankers, politicians, CEOs, foreign investors all gathered for the annual charity gala. It was the kind of event where power was not only measured in wealth but in who dared to stand tallest under the light.
Tonight, all eyes were on the man who had built a corporate empire from dust Damian Cross, the Alpha in a suit, as the tabloids liked to call him. But when he stepped into the ballroom, dressed in a sleek black tuxedo, it wasn’t his arrival that caused the crowd to gasp.
It was the woman at his side.
Zaria’s gown was midnight silk, clinging to her form with regal grace. The slit at her thigh revealed lon
