Chapter 7
966 Words
Liora's POV
The next morning, my phone had started ringing before I even rolled out of bed.
Unknown number. I let it go to voicemail.
Then another call—from a different area code. Then the emails began pouring in. By noon, my inbox looked like the floor of an auction house in the middle of a bidding war.
Jewelry dynasties I wouldn't have dared mention even in my wildest daydreams were begging to collaborate with "Nine."
Nine. Not me.
They didn't know that Number Nine wore my face. They didn't know that Number Nine was me—Liora.
I ignored every single message.
Even the invitation from the Selena family corporation—the platinum empire her father ruled like a monarch.
If she ever found out, she'd probably have a stroke.
---
Two days later, I stood alone at the base of the grand staircase in the ballroom.
Grandfather was supposed to escort me in, but he'd come down with a sudden cold and was confined to bed. So I attended alone.
The most powerful wolves in the territory had gathered tonight, dressed in couture and diamonds, their laughter carrying that subtle, oppressive edge that only true authority possesses.
I held a glass of champagne and positioned myself beside two socialites—not randomly, of course. They seemed quite interested in my presence.
"I heard Alpha Quinn's mysterious heir is attending tonight," one of them whispered—loud enough that it wasn't really a whisper.
"Oh, please," the other scoffed. "She's probably a fabrication. No one's ever seen her. Who knows if she even exists? Maybe Quinn just made her up to stall the succession issue."
"Good point."
I stood less than three steps away, taking a slow sip, pressing down the smile threatening to curl my lips.
If they knew the subject of their conversation was standing right beside them, wineglass in hand, watching them…
The thought alone was amusing.
But they would never know. Even when their eyes skimmed past me, they did so the way one might glance at an unremarkable piece of furniture.
Exactly how I preferred it.
I was about to move—perhaps to refresh my champagne—when a shift at the entrance made me pause.
It wasn't a sound.
It was the air. A subtle change in pressure. The instinctive tightening you feel before danger steps into the room.
I followed that invisible pull and looked up.
Selene and Kade.
They entered with a kind of rehearsed synchronicity. Or rather—Selene did.
She looped her arm through Kade's, her pace measured. Her gaze swept across the ballroom before her steps did, like a ruler inspecting her domain.
Then her eyes stopped.
On me.
For a single second, her flawless smile froze—undisguised.
She tilted her head and murmured something into Kade's ear. I watched him follow her line of sight. His brow tightened slightly. He muttered something back and subtly lifted a hand as if to stop her.
It seemed my previous warning had left some impression.
But Kade still didn't understand Selene.
Trying to restrain her would only make her approach faster.
As expected, she paused for no more than a heartbeat before shrugging off his hand and walking straight toward me.
The surrounding guests sensed it immediately. Conversations dipped. The crowd instinctively parted, creating a clear path for her.
No one spoke.
But everyone watched.
After all, what was more entertaining at an event like this than a public confrontation?
"Security!" she called out when she was five steps away, her voice cutting cleanly through the hall. "There's a thief in here. Remove her immediately!"
How tedious.
I calmly set down my glass and pulled the invitation from my purse. "Look carefully," I said evenly. "I have an invitation."
Selene's eyes flicked to it for a fraction of a second. Then she extended her hand, palm open, tone dripping with undisguised command.
"Give it to me."
I glanced at her outstretched hand.
Then I flicked the card lightly between my fingers, pivoted smoothly to the side, and slipped it back into my purse, snapping it shut as if her suspended hand didn't exist at all.
The invitation bore my grandfather's name in bold script. Anyone with eyes would know exactly who I was.
But let her announce my identity?
As if.
Who did she think she was?
The gesture was blatant provocation. I knew it. Everyone knew it.
A ripple of soft gasps spread through the room.
After a split second of stunned silence, Selene recovered.
And she smiled.
That smile was more dangerous than anger. Uglier than embarrassment.
"Fake," she declared sharply, her gaze dragging over me from head to toe as if assessing a cheap counterfeit. "Impressive, Liora. Where did you get a forged invitation? What did you sell to afford that dress? Spread your legs for it?"
I had promised myself I wouldn't respond to any of her taunts.
But even I couldn't keep from frowning at something so crude.
"You—"
"Selene."
Kade's voice had cut in before I could finish. He stepped forward slightly, warning threaded through his tone.
"Enough—"
"Enough!"
The same word. The same moment.
From a different direction.
The two voices overlapped in the air—but Kade's was immediately overshadowed.
Not by volume. By weight.
No one looked at Kade.
Everyone turned. Including me.
Rowan stood at the edge of the parted crowd. I hadn't even noticed when he arrived.
Before I realized it, a warm hand had settled against my waist.
He had scanned the room slowly, deliberately, before his gaze locked onto Kade—whose expression was already twisting with fury.
Then Rowan spoke.
"Kade, control your mistress. If she disturbs my companion again… You know what will happen."
- Writer
