Beneath Billionaire's Lies

THE Blackwood NAME Rain poured over Manhattan like the city itself was mourning. Ariana Devereux stood beneath the glowing chandeliers of the Grand Astoria Hotel, her fingers tightening around the stem of her champagne glass as wealthy elites laughed around her like they didn’t destroy lives for entertainment. Tonight wasn’t about celebration. It was survival. “Smile,” her mother whispered sharply beside her. “People are watching.” Ariana forced one onto her lips. The annual Blackwell Foundation Gala was the kind of event New York worshiped—old money, billionaires, politicians, models draped in diamonds worth more than entire neighborhoods and Ariana hated every second of it. The Devereux family used to belong here before the scandal, before the whispers, Before their empire collapsed overnight. Now people stared at her with pity hidden behind polite smiles. Or worse— Curiosity. “She’s Isabella Devereux’s daughter, right?” “I heard they lost almost everything, her father’s death was suspicious.” Some people whispered. Ariana kept her expression calm despite the anger burning beneath her skin. She had learned years ago that rich people smelled weakness like blood in water. “Mrs. Devereux.” A silver-haired woman approached with a fake smile stretched across her face. “It’s been so long.” Isabella’s posture stiffened instantly. “Miranda.” The woman’s eyes slid toward Ariana. Beautiful. Judging. Cruel. “You’ve grown up beautifully,” Miranda said smoothly. “You look just like your father.” Ariana smiled politely even though the mention of him felt like a knife twisting in her chest. “Thank you.” Miranda leaned closer slightly. Too close. “I’m surprised you still attend events like this after what happened to your family.” There it was. The poison beneath the perfume. Ariana’s grip tightened around her glass. Beside her, Isabella went cold, but before either of them could respond, movement near the ballroom entrance suddenly shifted the atmosphere of the entire room. People straightened. Whispers spread. Cameras flashed wildly. And then she heard the name. “Damian Blackwood is here.” Everything inside Ariana froze. The Blackwood. Even after all these years, hearing that name still felt like reopening an old wound. Slowly, she turned toward the entrance. And saw him. Tall. Broad shoulders wrapped in a perfectly tailored black suit. Dark hair slightly messy despite the storm outside. But it was his eyes that made her heart stumble— Cold. Sharp. Unreadable. The kind of eyes that looked at people and immediately decided whether they were useful or disposable. Damian Blackwood moved through the ballroom like a king returning to his kingdom. Power followed him naturally. People feared him. Ariana could see it clearly in the way conversations died around him. In the way men lowered their voices. In the way women stared too long. He looked nothing like the monster she imagined growing up. That somehow made him more dangerous. “Don’t look at him,” Isabella said quietly beside her. Too late. Because the moment Damian stepped fully into the ballroom— His gaze found hers instantly. Ariana’s breath caught. It made no sense. There were hundreds of people in this room, yet somehow it felt like he saw only her. The air changed between them. Heavy. Electric. Dangerous. Damian’s expression remained calm, but his eyes narrowed slightly as if recognizing something or someone. Then he started walking toward her. Every step slow. Controlled. Intentional. Her pulse began pounding painfully in her chest. “Mother…” Ariana whispered. Isabella looked genuinely alarmed now. “Stay away from him.” But Damian Blackwood stopped directly in front of Ariana anyway. Up close, he was worse. More intimidating. More beautiful. More terrifying. The scent of expensive cologne and rain clung to him. For a moment, neither of them spoke. They simply stared at each other while the ballroom buzzed quietly around them. Then Damian’s gaze dropped briefly to the champagne glass in her hand before returning to her face. “Interesting,” he said softly. His voice was deep. Smooth. Dangerously calm. Ariana lifted her chin despite the nervousness crawling beneath her skin. “What is?” One corner of his mouth tilted slightly. Not quite a smile. “Devereux.” The way he said her last name sent chills down her spine. Like it meant something, like she meant something. Behind him, cameras flashed again. People were watching now, watching carefully because a Blackwood standing this close to a Devereux after years of hatred between their families? That was the kind of scandal New York loved. Ariana forced herself not to look away. “You know my name,” she said carefully. Damian’s eyes darkened slightly. “I know exactly who you are.” Her heart skipped. Something about the way he said it felt wrong. Too personal. Too aware. Before Ariana could answer, another man suddenly approached them nervously. “Mr. Blackwood, the investors are waiting—” Damian didn’t even glance at him. His eyes remained locked on Ariana’s. “Enjoy the evening, Miss Devereux.” Then he walked away. Just like that. But the moment he disappeared into the crowd again, Ariana finally released the breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. Beside her, Isabella looked pale. “We’re leaving,” her mother said immediately. Ariana frowned. “What? Why?” “Now,” Isabella snapped. For the first time all night, fear flashed openly across Isabella Devereux’s face. And suddenly Ariana realized something terrifying. Her mother wasn’t afraid of the Blackwood family, she was afraid of Damian Blackwood specifically. And somewhere across the ballroom—The billionaire heir was still watching her.