EPISODE THREE
1099 Words
Sunlight was creeping through the curtains when Aurora woke. Soft, golden, and kind of annoying because it meant she had to face the day. Then came a knock. Three short taps, careful, polite.
“Come in,” she murmured, voice still rough from sleep.
Mrs. Alvarez appeared in the doorway, holding a folded note. “From Mr. Reynolds,” she said.
Aurora rubbed her eyes and took it. Liam’s handwriting—precise, neat, intimidating. She felt her stomach twist the moment she read it.
> Be ready by seven. There’s a company gala tonight. Formal attire will be sent to your room. Don’t be late.
A gala? She barely knew which fork went where at a dinner table. How was she supposed to stand beside Liam in a room full of people, all staring, all judging?
“Did he say why?” she asked, quietly.
Mrs. Alvarez shook her head. “Only that it’s important.”
Aurora exhaled. Her stomach knotted. Important—for him, maybe. For her, it felt like being thrown into the middle of a storm with no warning, no umbrella, no safety net.
---
By afternoon, the house was buzzing. Staff moving like robots, polishing glass, arranging flowers, everything in perfect order. Aurora stayed upstairs, pacing back and forth, nerves making her restless.
Another knock. A maid appeared, holding a garment bag.
“From Mr. Reynolds,” she said.
Aurora carefully unzipped it.
Her mouth went dry.
The dress inside… red. Deep red satin, soft, shimmering slightly when she touched it. Modest neckline in front, low back. Elegant but bold.
“Red,” Aurora whispered. Her pulse quickened. He chose this.
Why red?
She ran her fingers along the fabric, imagining why he picked it. Maybe nothing. Maybe everything.
When she finally put it on, it hugged her body like it knew her secrets. She stared at herself in the mirror. The red made her skin glow. She barely recognized the girl looking back at her—alive, maybe even… confident.
---
Downstairs, Liam was by the grand piano, cufflinks being fastened, tuxedo perfect, shoulders straight. Julian was talking about something—guests, arrangements, she didn’t catch it. Liam wasn’t listening. Not when Aurora appeared at the top of the stairs.
Time… stopped.
Her steps were slow, careful, but her eyes met his halfway down. The red dress caught the light and for the first time, Liam’s chest tightened for reasons he didn’t understand.
He hadn’t picked that dress for this, not for how it made him feel.
Julian noticed, smirked. “She’s ready,” he said softly.
Liam didn’t answer. Throat dry.
Aurora reached the last step. Lavender clung to her, faint and comforting.
“You chose this?” she whispered.
“It suits you,” he said.
“You sound surprised,” she teased.
“I’m not,” he said, a pause. “You clean up well.”
A laugh escaped her. Soft, nervous, but real.
They stood there. Silence heavy. Liam didn’t know if he was watching her or the other way around.
Julian cleared his throat. “The car’s waiting.”
The moment broke.
---
The city streaked past as they drove. Aurora’s hands were folded in her lap, but she couldn’t stop fidgeting. Heart racing.
Liam finally spoke. “Tonight’s the Reynolds Foundation gala. Media. Investors.”
“I understand,” she said.
“You’ll stand beside me. Smile when needed. Keep answers short.”
“What if they ask how we met?” she said, tilting her head.
“Say it was fate,” he said.
“Fate?” she repeated.
“People like stories they can romanticize,” he said, simple, cold.
She studied him. Something was off tonight. Restless. Uneasy.
“I’ll try not to embarrass you,” she said softly.
“You couldn’t, even if you tried,” he replied.
Her breath caught. She looked away at the lights.
---
The hotel glimmered. Cameras went wild as they stopped. Paparazzi pressed forward, shouting Liam’s name, Mrs. Reynolds! Her heart hammered. Liam stepped out first, offered his hand. Warm. Solid.
“Chin up,” he murmured. “Don’t look down. They can smell fear.”
She took his arm. Clung to it.
Whispers brushed past:
> “That’s her?”
“She’s so plain.”
“No one replaces Sophia Lane. Not even with charity.”
Her smile trembled. Liam’s hand tightened slightly. Warning. Protective. Silent.
Inside, golden light spilled from chandeliers. Waiters glided with champagne. Her dress pulled every gaze, flame in a sea of black.
Julian stayed close. Liam did the talking, smooth, precise.
A woman approached, sugar-coated venom in her voice. “So this is the new Mrs. Reynolds. Quite a change from Sophia, isn’t it?”
Aurora opened her mouth. Liam’s voice cut through.
“Change keeps life interesting. And my wife is extraordinary.”
The woman froze. Walked away. Aurora stared. My wife. Like it meant something real.
---
Hours passed. Music, laughter, glasses clinking. Aurora escaped to the terrace. Air hit her face. City glittered below.
“Beautiful view,” a voice said.
A man, half-drunk, tie loose, grin lazy.
“I’ve seen you before,” he said. “Didn’t think Reynolds’ type was so… fragile.”
Aurora stepped back. “Excuse me—”
His hand shot out, grabbed her wrist.
A shadow fell. Liam.
He twisted the man’s wrist sharply. “You were saying hello? Try it again,” he said, quiet, deadly.
The man stumbled.
Aurora froze. Heart pounding.
Liam’s eyes softened as he brushed her wrist. “Did he hurt you?”
“No,” she whispered.
“Stay close to me tonight,” he said.
“Yes… Liam,” she breathed.
His hand stayed on hers as they walked back in. Closer than ever.
---
Crowd roared around them. Aurora tried to disappear. Smile. Nod. Pretend. Red dress burned. Impossible to ignore.
Liam watched. Protective. Every movement tracked. Something raw in him she hadn’t seen.
Julian nudged him. “You’ve been staring too long.”
Liam ignored him.
Then. A man stepped too close. Older. Entitled. Hand brushed her arm. Aurora froze.
Her lips parted. Nothing came out.
Liam moved.
Fast.
Julian called, lost in noise.
Aurora whispered, trembling, “Please… let go.”
The man laughed.
Liam’s eyes found hers. Calm gone. Fire everywhere.
Before anyone could react. Before she could blink.
Music stopped.
Gasps rippled.
Something happened.
But no one knew what.
Did he reach her in time?
Did he lose control?
Or had everything changed in that instant?
No one knew.
Not yet.
- Writer
