The President's Son

As usual, I stood alone in a quiet corner of the grand ballroom. The birthday celebration was packed with noble guests—people I’d known for years, all dressed to perfection, clinking glasses, and exchanging pleasantries. My husband, Sylus, was there too… wrapped in a moment with his ex-girlfriend—no, his mistress—Ava. They were being blatantly clingy, right in front of everyone, right in front of me. I avoided eye contact with Sylus every time he glanced my way. But I could still feel his gaze—and worse, the smirk he wore when he caught me watching them. As if he was feeding off my discomfort. Then he had the audacity to wrap his arms around Ava’s waist and pull her against his chest, flaunting their closeness as if I didn't exist. And maybe I didn’t. None of this would've happened if my parents hadn’t sold me off in marriage to the president’s son—to save our crumbling family business. I was just a bargaining chip in a high-stake trade. Love was never part of the deal. Being the only heir, I was forced to choose my family’s reputation and my father’s pride over my own happiness. I had always longed for affection—real love—but life doesn't always give you what you crave, does it? Despite the storm inside, I wore a practiced smile, greeting guests and accepting their congratulations with grace. Most of them weren’t sincere, of course. My marriage had become a staple in their daily gossip—an elite scandal that no one dared question aloud. Power comes with its privileges, after all. People can whisper, but they never dare speak directly. The media, however, was another story. But Sylus always handled them perfectly—charming, political, and manipulative. A true son of power. “Ma’am, would you like a drink?” a waitress asked, offering a tray of champagne and wine. I nodded, grabbing a glass, and took a slow sip—just as someone familiar approached me. “Hey, missed me?” Zenro grinned, pulling me into a soft hug. “Zenro! Happy birthday,” I smiled, hugging him back. “Thanks. You look stunning tonight—as always,” he said. “And you look effortlessly handsome, as usual,” I replied with a chuckle. We shared a warm moment, the kind I rarely experienced anymore. His eyes flicked to Sylus and Ava. “So he’s still stuck to that w***e,” he muttered, his jaw tightening. “Yeah… just ignore them,” I murmured, sparing them one quick glance. “It’s not right, Aizel. You should talk to him,” he said. “What’s the point? I came between them. He never wanted this marriage, remember?” I said with a hollow laugh. “But you two could at least try to make it work…” “If he wanted that, he wouldn’t have said what he did on our wedding night,” I replied, forcing a smile that didn’t reach my eyes. Zenro didn’t respond. That night still haunted me. Only hours after we exchanged vows, Sylus made it perfectly clear: he was in love with Ava. He only married me because his father demanded it, and more importantly—because saying yes made his path to presidency easier. I wanted to ask him if he planned to divorce me once he achieved his goals… but I stayed silent. I simply walked over to my suitcase and changed into something comfortable, drained and numb. He probably expected a dramatic response. But I gave him nothing—not even a look. That silence drove him mad. “Don’t you have any manners?! Whatever. Just stay out of my life,” he snapped before storming out, slamming the door. “Aizel!” Zenro’s voice pulled me out of my thoughts. I blinked, snapping back to the present. My eyes immediately landed on Sylus and Ava, dancing like they were the only two people in the world. Others were on the floor too, but the spotlight was theirs—and all eyes were on them. Including mine. In that moment, I felt utterly invisible. Suddenly, I felt a warm hand grab mine and pull me toward the dance floor. It was Zenro, flashing that radiant smile of his. “What are you doing, Zen?” I asked, caught off guard. “Let’s steal the show,” he said with a wink. “B-but… I can’t dance like you—” “Just be confident,” he reassured, taking my hands and spinning me gently. The way he held my waist and guided me with ease—it made me feel like I could breathe again. For once, I wasn’t thinking about Sylus. I wasn’t thinking about Ava. I was just… living. Free. As our dance ended, the room erupted into applause. Embarrassed, I stepped out of the spotlight with Zenro by my side. That’s when I saw Sylus again—eyes locked on us, his jaw tense, expression unreadable but clearly burning. “Don’t freak out, Aizel. He won’t dare do anything,” Zenro said calmly, sipping his wine. “What do you mean?” “Don’t worry. Just relax,” he said, shooting Sylus a smirk that clearly provoked him further. Ava clung to Sylus’s arm, but he ignored her completely and marched straight toward us. “Aizel, I think we should head home now. I’m tired,” Sylus said, eyes on me. Before I could respond, Zenro stepped in. “The party’s not over, Sylus. Stay a bit longer.” “I said I’m tired,” Sylus snapped, his voice sharp. “Then go. I’ll drop Aizel home later,” Zenro smiled politely. “No. She’s my wife. She goes with me,” Sylus replied coldly, eyes narrowing. “Aizel?” he turned to me. “Hoseok will drop me home, Sylus. Don’t worry,” I said, calmly meeting his gaze. His jaw clenched. He took a long sip of wine—then suddenly, he “accidentally” spilled the glass all over me. “What the hell, Sylus?!” I shouted, shocked and drenched. “Oh… my bad,” he said with a wicked smirk. “I think that means you have to come home with me now.” Before I could react, he grabbed my hand and pulled me out of the venue, leaving Zenro behind—staring after us, his eyes burning with anger and concern.