The grand dining hall shimmered with opulent crystal chandeliers, golden cutlery reflecting the soft glow over the long mahogany table. Guests murmured polite compliments and laughter, a mask of sophistication masking the tension underneath. Bella’s fingers clenched the edge of her silk gown as she took a hesitant sip of her champagne, every sound amplified in her nerves. Tonight, Damien insisted she attend, promising it would be “fun, just the two of us” in his father’s penthouse. But the air was heavy, electric—not with joy, but with the subtle threads of manipulation she could almost sense, though she couldn’t yet name the puppeteer.
Victoria Blackwood’s eyes followed Bella as she navigated the room. The woman’s demeanor was warm, almost maternal in her public smiles, yet her glances c
