Chapter 17
786 Words
Celina
The moment the car door opened, reality slammed into her.
Flashbulbs exploded like fireworks. Cameras clicked in rapid-fire chaos. Voices shouted at them—his name—layered over questions hurled like weapons.
“Elliot—who is she?”
“How long have you been together?”
“Is this the woman who finally caught you?”
The scale of it was overwhelming—this wasn’t just a charity ball. It was spectacle. Grammys-level opulence. A red carpet that gleamed under towering lights. Dancers suspended from silks high above the entrance, bodies flowing like living art. Waiters glided past with silver trays of jewel-toned cocktails and impossibly expensive champagne.
She faltered.
Elliot didn’t.
His hand came down at the small of her back—firm, grounding, unmistakably possessive. His private security closed in seamlessly, a moving wall that carved a path through the chaos.
“Stay with me,” he murmured low enough that only she could hear.
She clung to him, fingers curling into his jacket as the media surged closer. For the first time since stepping out of the car, her pulse slowed. With him anchoring her, the noise dulled.
Inside was worse.
Every head turned.
Men stared openly. Women assessed, calculated, whispered. She felt it—the weight of his world settling on her shoulders—and felt him stiffen beside her as he noticed it too.
Anger radiated off him in controlled waves.
For a flicker of a second, doubt crept in.
The dress.
But then she remembered the bomb he’d dropped on her that morning. The withheld truths. The carefully controlled chaos.
No, she thought. This is my turn.
She straightened, lifted her chin, and stepped fully into herself.
Elliot guided her to a reserved area where his family sat, elegance and power woven into every detail. His mother rose instantly, eyes bright.
“Celina,” she said warmly, taking her hands. “You look absolutely stunning.”
“So do you,” Celina replied sincerely, returning the smile.
Before Elliot could say more, three men approached—each devastating in his own way. They had the same sharp bone structure, the same commanding presence.
The brothers, she realised.
Perfect.
Elliot was pulled aside almost immediately, tension clear in the set of his shoulders.
Opportunity hummed. And her plan kicked into motion.
She laughed at something one of his brothers said—just a little too close, her hand brushing his arm briefly. Nothing improper. Everything intentional.
Elliot noticed.
His jaw tightened.
She leaned in to hear another brother over the music, her smile slow, her attention focused solely on him for a beat longer than necessary.
Elliot’s eyes burned into her back.
During a toast, she met Elliot’s gaze across the table and deliberately looked away—choosing instead to clink glasses with Sam, laughter warm and easy.
Elliot’s grip on his glass went white-knuckled.
She complimented David’s cufflinks, fingers grazing his wrist as she spoke. Harmless. Calculated.
Elliot leaned in close to her ear moments later. “You’re playing a dangerous game.”
She smiled sweetly. “You taught me how.”
She danced briefly with Roland—just long enough to feel Elliot’s presence at the edge of the floor, a storm barely contained.
The brothers were enjoying this far too much.
Eventually, she excused herself, needing air—and a mirror—to recalibrate. But the hallways twisted, the venue sprawling and unfamiliar. She pushed through a set of doors and found herself on a balcony, cool night air brushing her heated skin.
“Lost?”
Sam stepped out beside her.
She smiled faintly. “Apparently.”
They talked—easily, surprisingly so. About travel. About duty. About Elliot.
And then Sam’s tone shifted.
“You should know,” he said gently. “He loved once. Completely.”
Her chest tightened.
Sam told her everything—the honeymoon, the accident, the water, the loss. The mansion built for a future that never came. The woman in the portrait.
The woman in the portrait.
The truth slammed into place with brutal clarity.
Her knees weakened.
“Oh,” she whispered.
The air felt thin. The night spun.
“I need—” She shook her head. “I’m sorry.”
She left before Sam could stop her, slipping through a service exit unnoticed. The city swallowed her whole as she walked—no direction, no plan—until exhaustion won.
Her legs gave out in a dark alley, the world dimming.
Her last thought before everything went black was simple and terrifying:
He won’t find me this time.
And somewhere, far behind her, Elliot Blackwood was about to realise just how much he had to lose.
- Writer
