Haylee’s POV
I didn’t need to look up to feel the shift in the air.
Martin’s entire frame stiffened beside me, sharp and unyielding, like a coiled spring ready to snap. He didn’t just tense—he transformed, as if gearing up for battle in the polished armor of his tuxedo. Immediately his voice came, it was smooth, deliberate, dripping with smug amusement. “Well, well. Martin Knight. Never thought I would see you gracing one of these... peasant parades.”
I turned toward the source of the interruption, just in time to catch him approaching. Tall, clean cut, and oozing arrogance mixed with the smell of his cologne, he carried himself with an energy that practically screamed entitlement. His suit was undoubtedly custom—flawless in its fit—but it wasn’t the tailored fabric that turned heads. I
