My father's voice echoed in my head like a curse.
"You'll attend the business ball tonight—with her. That scandal already dragged our name through the dirt. The least you can do is pretend damage control."
I didn't want to see her. Didn't want to breathe the same air. But I was dressed in black tailored Armani, standing at the foot of the grand staircase, waiting for her like some sick joke.
And then… she descended.
No glitter. No dramatic gown. Just a simple black satin dress that hugged her figure like smoke, barely touching the floor. Her hair was tied low. No makeup, just those haunting eyes.
But the thing that made my blood boil?
The diamond necklace.
My mother's necklace.
The one that was meant for Veronica.
My eyes narrowed. "That," I spat, my voice low and sharp, "who told you to wear that?"
She met my gaze without flinching. "Your mother forced it on me. Said it would look good for the cameras. I didn't ask for it. I'll return it when we're back."
I laughed—loud and cruel.
"Oh, of course. Play the modest victim, right?" I sneered, stepping forward. "You wanted this kind of life. Glitz. Glamour. Diamonds you didn't earn."
"I never wanted this life," she replied, voice cold and tired. "Especially not with you."
That did it.
I grabbed her wrist. Hard.
Too hard.
She flinched, sucking in a breath, but didn't pull away.
I looked down. The red imprint of my fingers already blooming against her pale skin.
Good.
I leaned in, my voice a dangerous whisper. "Smile tonight. Dance when I say. Speak only when spoken to. And when it's over, crawl back into whatever hole you came from."
Her jaw clenched. She didn't cry. She didn't speak. Just nodded, eyes burning.
I hated that. Hated that she didn't break.
So I dragged her to the car.
Ember POV
My eyes burned. Not from the bright chandeliers above or the sharp flash of cameras waiting outside—but from him.
Ethan.
His grip was iron around my wrist, each step we took carving fingerprints into my skin. I wanted to speak, wanted to scream. But the words… they wouldn't come. They choked in my throat like ash.
"I swear I won't break."
That was what I had promised myself when I stepped out of the car. Chin up. Heart guarded. Face blank. But I hadn't known that he'd look at me like that—like I was filth stuck to the bottom of his shoe.
And when he leaned in and whispered those cruel words, when his laughter mocked me in front of the staff, something inside me cracked.
I wanted to cry. Loudly. Violently.
But no tears fell.
Just this storm swelling inside my chest, begging to be let out. Screaming for someone—anyone—to save me from this hellhole.
But no one came.
And he kept walking, dragging me behind him like I was nothing.
At the business ball, I found myself trailing behind Ethan, matching his every step like a lost shadow. I didn't know what to do—didn't know how to act. My hands were clammy, my chest tight with nerves. I had never been to such a high-profile event before. The chandeliers sparkled too brightly, the people looked too polished, and every pair of eyes felt like they were watching me—judging me.
I wasn't supposed to be here. This world didn't belong to someone like me. I could feel the gap between Ethan and me widen with every second, even though we walked side by side. And yet, I followed him, holding my head high, trying to silence the storm of fear rising inside me.