Chapter 5: The Gala
336 Words
The black dress fit like a secret. Elegant, sleek, and off the shoulder — a perfect mix of modesty and quiet confidence. Rita studied herself in the mirror, hardly recognizing the woman staring back. The staff had done her makeup soft but striking, her natural beauty enhanced, not erased.
Still… she felt like an actress in someone else’s role.
The car ride was quiet. Richard sat beside her, unreadable as always. In a charcoal suit, with his jaw set and eyes fixed on the road ahead, he looked more like a ruler than a husband.
“You look... presentable,” he finally said, eyes flickering her way.
“Thanks,” she replied dryly. “I was aiming for ‘passably tolerable.’”
For the first time, something like amusement cracked his cold mask. Just for a second.
At the gala, flashes of cameras greeted them. The air was full of champagne, whispers, and polished perfection. The city’s most powerful people turned to look, eyes assessing, admiring—and judging.
Rita smiled as trained, nodded as instructed. But her mind spun.
“Who is she?”
“Why her?”
“I heard he didn’t even date her…”
Richard leaned close, his hand settling on the small of her back. “Keep your head up,” he murmured against her hair. “You belong here. Even if they don’t think so.”
His touch was warm. Reassuring. Confusing.
For hours, she played the role of the billionaire’s bride. But when their eyes met across the ballroom, something shifted. She saw something raw beneath his surface—something haunted. Something that whispered he hadn’t just chosen her out of convenience.
After a toast and another round of questions from society vultures, Richard pulled her into a quieter hallway. No cameras. Just him and her.
“You did well tonight,” he said, voice low.
“Did I pass the test?”
“No,” he said, eyes locked on hers. “You set the standard.”
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- Writer
