The gala ballroom glittered with crystal chandeliers and dangerous people. Dante kept Aria glued to his side, one hand possessively on her waist.
“Smile, sweetheart,” he whispered. “They’re watching.”
Aria forced a graceful smile, though her knees shook. Sofia’s lessons helped, but fear still clawed at her. “They all know I’m the contract wife,” she murmured.
“They know you’re mine,” Dante corrected, kissing her temple publicly. Whispers rippled through the crowd.
Marco approached. “Some allies are wavering. They want to hear Aria speak.”
Dante nodded. “She’s ready.”
When the moment came, Aria stood at the microphone, heart hammering. “I know many of you doubt me,” she began, voice soft but steady. “But I chose this life with Dante. I stand by him.”
Applause followed,
