The gala of lies
1164 Words
The morning after signing her life away began not with a sunrise, but with a knock.
Aria stirred from the massive bed, disoriented by the silk sheets, the faint scent of cedar, and the too-quiet world of Knox Wilder.
Another knock, firmer.
She groaned softly and swung her legs over the edge, her feet sinking into the plush rug. As she padded toward the door, she remembered where she was—and who she belonged to now.
The woman from yesterday—the one in black with eyes like glass—stood outside.
“Your fitting is in twenty minutes. Do not keep Mr. Wilder waiting.”
Aria blinked. “Good morning to you too.”
The woman didn’t blink. “I’m Dahlia. Personal assistant. I don’t do small talk.”
Of course she didn’t.
The next hour passed in a whirlwind of satin, stilettos, and strangers tugging at her body like she was a mannequin. Designers floated around her, murmuring in French and Italian as they draped her in gowns worth more than her yearly rent.
She stood stiffly in front of a gold mirror while one of them adjusted the off-shoulder neckline of an emerald dress that clung to her curves like second skin.
“This one,” Knox’s voice said from behind.
Aria turned sharply.
He stood at the threshold, dark suit immaculate, cufflinks glittering like secrets. His gaze swept over her, unreadable.
Aria crossed her arms, suddenly aware of how exposed she felt. “You couldn’t knock?”
He stepped into the room, eyes still on her. “Why? You’re my wife now.”
She clenched her jaw. “Only on paper.”
Knox walked around her slowly, his presence a storm she couldn’t ignore. “In a few hours, you’ll walk into the Carlton Gala on my arm. The cameras won’t care about the contract.”
“Let them stare,” she muttered.
“They will,” he said, pausing in front of her. “So you’ll keep your chin high, your smile convincing, and your hands off the wine. This isn’t a party—it’s business.”
“And what exactly am I selling?”
He leaned in, his breath brushing her cheek. “The illusion that I’m not completely alone.”
She stilled. That… wasn’t what she expected.
He straightened, his tone snapping cold again. “Be ready by eight. Don’t be late.”
Then he turned and left—just like that. No explanation. No softness.
Just like always.
By the time the car rolled up to the Carlton Hotel, Aria felt like she’d been wrapped, painted, and transformed into a stranger. Her hair was twisted into an elegant knot, her eyes lined in smoky perfection, and the emerald gown shimmered like liquid envy under the night sky.
The red carpet unfurled before them as photographers shouted names from behind velvet ropes.
“Mr. Wilder! Over here!”
“Knox! Is that your date?”
Knox stepped out of the car first, the flashbulbs firing instantly. Then he turned and offered her his hand.
Aria hesitated.
Then she placed her hand in his, and the second her fingers touched his, the world erupted.
Cameras. Screams. Flashes like lightning.
“Smile,” Knox said through gritted teeth.
She forced one, her heart pounding as she linked her arm through his and walked beside him like she belonged there.
The ballroom was gold and glass and glittering chandeliers. Men in tuxedos and women in gowns milled about, champagne flutes in hand, laughter echoing like it was bottled and sold.
But every head turned when they walked in.
Every eye watched.
Knox leaned close. “They’re vultures. Don’t blink.”
“Don’t worry,” she muttered. “I’ve been prey before.”
He chuckled low under his breath, surprising her. It was the first genuine sound she’d heard from him.
Then a woman in a crimson dress glided over, lips curved like she owned the floor.
“Knox. You never told me you got married.” Her voice dripped with something between sarcasm and seduction.
“Aria, meet Celeste Langford,” Knox said coolly. “Celeste, my wife.”
Celeste’s eyes scanned Aria with a sneer disguised as a smile. “Wife? That’s adorable.”
Aria raised a brow. “And you are?”
Celeste’s smile slipped.
Knox smirked. “She’s no one, Aria. Shall we?”
He led her away before Celeste could recover.
“Old flame?” Aria asked.
“Old mistake,” he muttered.
They stopped near a group of investors, and the conversations began. Knox was smooth, sharp-tongued, and strategic. Aria played her role—charming, silent when needed, laughing at the right moments.
But beneath her calm facade, her skin was on fire.
Knox’s hand grazed the small of her back more than once. Every accidental brush, every stolen glance made her forget this was all pretend.
Then came the toast.
A tall man with silver hair raised his glass. “To Mr. and Mrs. Wilder! May this union bring joy… and strong stocks!”
Laughter echoed.
Aria lifted her glass, smiled like her heart wasn’t spiraling, and clinked it gently.
But the moment she sipped, something shifted.
Knox’s smile faded. He leaned in.
“I told you—no wine.”
“It’s one sip,” she whispered back.
“You don’t disobey me in public.”
She turned toward him, fury simmering. “You don’t own me.”
His jaw clenched. “No, Aria. But right now, I own this moment. And you just made it dangerous.”
She blinked.
Dangerous?
Before she could ask, a tall man in a gray suit stepped toward them. His eyes locked on Aria.
“Aria Monroe?”
Her heart froze. “Yes?”
“I’m Ezra Lang. You don’t remember me, but… I knew your father.”
The glass slipped from her fingers, shattering against the floor.
The entire ballroom fell silent.
Knox’s hand gripped hers instantly. “We’re leaving.”
“No—wait,” she said, still staring at Ezra. “You knew my father?”
Ezra’s face softened. “We worked together. Years ago. I’ve been trying to reach you since—”
Knox stepped between them. “She’s not available. Not tonight. Or ever.”
He didn’t give Aria a chance to speak.
He dragged her through the stunned crowd, through the hotel corridors, and into the waiting car before she could catch her breath.
Inside the car, silence cracked like thunder between them.
“You knew him,” she finally whispered. “You knew Ezra would be there.”
Knox’s expression was stone. “That man is not what he seems.”
“Neither are you,” she snapped.
He looked at her then, really looked—his jaw tight, his eyes burning. “I’m protecting you.”
“From what?”
Knox didn’t answer.
And Aria realized something terrifying.
He wasn’t just hiding something.
He was hiding everything.
- Writer
