How do I leave?

Chapter3

Chapter Three – The Gala

POV: Elena

The music swelled as I stepped into Sterling Global’s annual gala, a thousand glittering lights spilling down from chandeliers that looked like they’d been carved from starlight. Cameras flashed, laughter echoed, champagne flowed—but beneath my smile, terror coiled tight in my chest.

I knew I didn’t belong here. Every jewel on every wrist, every diamond smile, and every whisper of silk reminded me of what I was: an imposter wearing another woman’s skin.

Still, I kept my lips curved and my back straight. Tonight wasn’t about belonging. Tonight was about survival.

“Elena Voss.”

The voice dripped like honey laced with venom. I turned to see someone. Someone long forgotten.

Vivienne Sterling.

For a moment my blood ran cold.

She moved toward me, her gown the color of midnight, her posture effortless, her smile sharp enough to slice. Every pair of eyes followed her—Sterling’s queen, the woman who’d rebuilt the empire after Adrian’s father’s fall. She leaned close, brushing a kiss to the air near my cheek, her perfume cloying.

“Darling,” she said softly, her lips barely moving. “How’ve you been?”

“What should I say? I am fine.” I said, giving a forced smile.

She darted her eyes. Up till the sole of my shoes, “You wear fear poorly. It smells all over you.”

My heart hammered, resting my eyes to the ground.

“I see the row of you death already close by.”

“And what if that row eventually is your name.”

Her laugh was a silken dagger. “Of course you will have the guts to speak to me. Fear is practically stitched into your dress. But don’t worry—” Her eyes glittered as they raked over me. “I rather enjoy watching girls like you burn out.”

I forced my smile wider. “You seem to be making a great mistake.”

Her hand brushed my arm, delicate, proprietary. “We’ll see.”

She swept away, her gown trailing like smoke.

I exhaled shakily, gripping the clutch in my hands so tightly the metal frame cut into my palm. My mask held, but inside, I was trembling.

This wasn’t just a gala. It was a battlefield.

The moment I found an opening, I slipped away. Past the laughing couples, past the champagne towers and swirling music, down a corridor dimly lit and deserted. My heels clicked softly against the marble as I pushed into a locked office with a stolen keycard.

Inside, silence pressed in. My fingers flew over the laptop I’d found on the desk, Isla’s whispered instructions echoing in my memory.

Sterling hides his secrets offshore. Follow the trail.

I hacked in, heart pounding as files unfolded across the screen—hidden accounts, shadow transactions, a labyrinth of fraud worth billions.

So my father had been right. Being right about Adrian Sterling’s empire wasn’t just glass and steel. It was blood and lies.

“Enjoying the view?” a voice cut in.

I froze.

That voice.

I turned slowly, and there he was. Adrian Sterling, standing in the doorway, his black tuxedo molded to his frame, his storm-colored eyes fixed on me like a predator who’d cornered his prey.

My pulse leapt to my throat. “I. Yeah.” I stuttered, cringing little by little.

“At work?” His tone was amused, mixed with somewhat lethal as he closed the door behind him with a soft click. “Strange place for a consultant to work. In her boss’s office, ravaging his files.”

I tried to put out a fake smile, “It’s nothing. Just looking for some materials that could be of use to me,” I said quickly, praying the lie didn’t tremble on my tongue.

He hummed, closing the distance between us, “And the PR feels it’s best she checks my file?”

“I knocked but didn’t get any reply.” I said, holding a document in my hands, “Your charity works. Past donations. Something to highlight for the press release—”

He stalked closer, each step deliberate and controlled. His presence suffocated.

“That’s smart of you,” he murmured, his voice brushing over me like ice. “But not smart enough.” He stopped inches away, tilting his head as though studying a specimen. “Tell me, Elena. What would you do if I pressed one button right now and had you dragged out of this building in chains to a place underworld?”

I swallowed hard. “I’d… tell you that would look very bad in tomorrow’s papers.”

His lips curved, dark amusement flashing in his eyes. “So you’d blackmail me with optics.”

“I’d survive,” I whispered.

He leaned down, his face so close I could see the flecks of silver in his irises. “Survival isn’t a virtue here. Its humiliation stretched thin until you beg me to end it.”

His hand shot out, gripping my arm. I gasped as his fingers dug into my flesh, bruising.

“You think you’re invisible,” he hissed. “But I see every lie stitched into your skin. I see all your strange moves. ”

Pain burned under his grip, shame flooding through me as my body betrayed me with a trembling shiver.

“Say it,” he commanded.

I shook my head, my lips pressed tight.

His hand struck me across the face, sharp, and merciless. My head snapped sideways, heat exploding across my cheek. The sting lit my skin like fire.

“Say it,” he repeated, his voice low, dangerous.

Tears burned, but I refused to let them fall. My pride was the only armor I had left.

“I’m lying,” I whispered, the words choking out of me.

His grip loosened. A cruel smile curved his lips. “Good girl.”

He stepped back, leaving me raw, humiliated, and my skin tingling where he’d touched me. My chest heaved, shame suffocating.

“Wondered why I haven’t laid you off yet or even killed you?” he cut in, a fake warm smile tugged at his lips.

“Dunno…” I responded, my voice low.

“Better you don’t know.” His voice dropped.

“Now go back to the gala,” he ordered softly. “Smile for the cameras. Pretend you belong. But remember this, Elena—” His eyes burned into mine, merciless. “You belong to me now. Every lie you tell, every secret you hide, it all becomes mine. And I will strip you bare until there’s nothing left.”

I stumbled back into the glittering ballroom, my smile trembling at the edges, my cheek still throbbing from his hand. The music roared, the laughter sparkled, and I was nothing but a doll painted with pretense.

I reached for a glass of champagne, anything to anchor myself, when I felt it. The weight in my purse.

My breath caught. My fingers slipped inside—and froze.

The flash drive.

The same one that had been wiped clean.

Only now, it glowed with a single file.

I slipped into a quiet corner, my hands trembling as I opened it on my phone. The image unfolded across the screen, searing my vision.

A photograph of my father.

Alive, smiling.

And shaking hands with Vivienne Sterling.

The world tilted, my knees weakening, the ground dropping out beneath me.

Then it dawned that I wasn’t just

hunting Adrian. I was also standing in the palm of Vivienne’s hand.