CHAPTER FIVE
1275 Words
The flash of cameras began before they even stepped out of the car.
Damien’s sleek black limousine pulled up to the grand entrance of the Blackwood Foundation’s annual charity gala. Outside, beneath the arched glass canopy, a crowd of reporters stood behind velvet ropes, their voices a cacophony of questions, speculations, and shouts.
Lila stared through the tinted window, pulse racing.
The mansion behind them had been private. Safe, in a strange way. But this? This was a battlefield. And she was walking into it with nothing but a borrowed dress and a man who treated her like a shield.
Damien sat beside her, calm as ever, phone in hand. He hadn’t spoken much since they left. Just a few clipped instructions:
“Smile, but not too wide. Look at me, not the cameras. And whatever you do—don’t freeze.”
She wasn’t sure if he meant emotionally or physically.
The car rolled to a stop.
He glanced at her now, finally lowering his phone. “Ready?”
“No,” she said truthfully, “but I’ll fake it.”
A hint of a smirk crossed his lips. “Good. That’s all anyone ever does at these things.”
Then the door opened, and the world exploded into light.
They stepped out together, arm in arm.
The cameras went wild.
“Mr. Blackwood! Over here!”
“Is that your wife? When did you get married?”
“Who is she? Is she royalty? A secret heiress?”
“Smile for us, Mrs. Blackwood!”
Lila kept her gaze trained on Damien, just like he’d told her. The silver dress shimmered under the lights, catching the attention of every lens. Her red lips formed the faintest curve, elegant but distant.
They walked slowly, deliberately, toward the grand staircase leading into the crystal-draped ballroom.
Inside, everything glowed gold.
The chandeliers sparkled like galaxies above their heads. Waiters in white gloves floated through the room with trays of champagne. And the guests—well-dressed titans of industry, famous faces, and cold-blooded investors—watched them like predators sizing up prey.
But no one dared to approach Damien.
Not yet.
They were too curious.
Too uncertain.
Too busy whispering.
“That’s her?”
“She looks… plain. Pretty, but not Blackwood pretty.”
“Where did he find her?”
“Must be a publicity stunt.”
Lila heard it all. And though she kept smiling, her fingers dug into Damien’s sleeve.
He didn’t flinch.
Instead, he leaned down slightly and said under his breath, “Welcome to high society.”
They made it to the marble balcony above the ballroom, where the foundation’s board waited to greet them.
An older man with silver hair and a perfectly tailored tux stepped forward. Charles Winston—Damien’s longest-standing investor and one of the richest men in New York.
“Damien,” Charles said with a warm, rehearsed smile. “We’ve all been looking forward to meeting your bride.”
Lila extended her hand politely. “It’s an honor, Mr. Winston.”
He kissed it, the old-fashioned way. “Please, call me Charles. And you must call me if my godson ever gives you trouble.”
Lila blinked. “Godson?”
Damien’s jaw tensed.
Charles smiled wider. “Didn’t he tell you? I’ve known him since he was in short pants. He used to bite when he didn’t get his way.”
The nearby board members chuckled politely.
Damien’s voice was smooth but clipped. “Lila, why don’t you grab a drink? I need to speak with Charles.”
She nodded, her cue clear.
She drifted toward the balcony’s bar, acutely aware that dozens of eyes were following her every move. Her heels clicked on the polished floor as she accepted a flute of champagne from a waiter.
She didn’t sip it.
She couldn’t.
Her heart was pounding too fast.
She glanced back at Damien, who now stood with Charles, deep in conversation. Their expressions were tense—too tense for polite chitchat.
And then she saw her.
A woman standing by the spiral staircase.
Tall,Blonde,Dripping in diamonds and staring at Lila like she was a cockroach that had crawled onto the carpet.
She walked toward her slowly, deliberately. Every step screamed confidence. Power.
“Lila Hart,” she said, voice smooth as silk and twice as cutting. “We haven’t met.”
“No, we haven’t,” Lila replied cautiously.
The woman offered a manicured hand. “Juliette Monroe. Damien and I used to be… very close.”
Lila shook her hand. Cold. Sharp.
Of course. There had to be an ex.
Juliette’s red lips curved into something between a smile and a smirk. “We all expected him to announce something soon. But a wedding? That was a surprise.”
Lila forced a light laugh. “Life is full of surprises.”
“Indeed,” Juliette said, eyes narrowing. “Especially when they come from nowhere.”
“I didn’t realize love had to come with a pedigree.”
“Oh, sweetheart,” Juliette purred, stepping closer. “This isn’t love. It’s damage control. And you’re the PR bandage.”
The words hit harder than they should have. But Lila refused to flinch.
“Even bandages can stop a wound from bleeding out,” she said coolly.
Juliette blinked, surprised by the bite. But before she could retort, a voice cut through the tension.
“Lila.”
Damien stood just behind her, hand extended.
She didn’t hesitate. She placed her hand in his, and he pulled her gently toward him.
He looked between the two women. “Juliette.”
“Damien,” she said, lips pursed. “I was just welcoming your… bride.”
“I’m sure you were.”
He turned away without another word, guiding Lila down the stairs into the ballroom proper.
Once they were clear of the crowd, he leaned in.
“She’s dangerous,” he said quietly. “Stay away from her.”
“Why?” Lila whispered. “Old flame?”
He didn’t answer.
Not directly.
“She doesn’t like being replaced.”
They reached the floor just as the lights dimmed.
A spotlight flared at the center of the stage. A host in a velvet jacket took the mic and welcomed the crowd to the Blackwood Foundation’s fifteenth annual gala.
But Lila could barely hear it.
Her hand was still in Damien’s. And for the first time, his grip felt… tighter. Protective.
And not just for the cameras.
The host smiled wide. “And now, ladies and gentlemen,it is my pleasure to introduce tonight’s surprise announcement from our very own Mr. Damien Blackwood.”
Lila’s stomach dropped.
What announcement?
Damien turned to her and whispered, “Smile.”
Then he stepped into the spotlight, leaving her in the shadows, heart pounding.
The crowd quieted. All eyes turned to the stage.
“Tonight,” Damien began, his voice smooth and steady, “I want to share more than just a vision for the future—I want to share the woman who will be part of building it with me.”
Lila blinked.
No. He wouldn’t—
“Allow me to formally introduce my wife,” Damien said, turning slightly toward her. “Lila Hart-Blackwood.”
A burst of camera flashes erupted as a collective gasp swept through the ballroom.
And just as Lila took a shaky step forward, Juliette’s voice rang out from the crowd:
“Funny… but I thought your wife died in that plane crash five years ago.”
The room went dead silent.
Damien froze.
And Lila?
She suddenly realized she didn’t know this man at all.
- Writer
