The lights in the ballroom were like stars in glass. Shepherd came in with a tray of glasses. His white jacket was tight on his wet hoodie. Nobody paid any attention to him. Good.
He bowed his head and went through the crowd like a ghost.
Guests laughed. Women were dressed in frosty dresses. Men were talking of money and deals. There was the odor of wine and perfume, heavy and sweet.
His eyes roved the room.
Then he saw her.
Arielle.
She was in the middle of the ball. She wore a dress of brilliant white, which flowed like a cloud. The ceiling lights were softly glowing and kissing her skin, and her long earrings were shining as she turned her head.
She had a perfect smile.
Fake. But perfect.
Darion Creed was standing beside her. One hand lay on her backside. The other hand was holding a champagne glass. His shoulders were broad. His jaw rose. The way his mouth curled up was saying that he felt he deserved everything around him.
Shepherd froze.
His breath was arrested.
His chest contracted.
The tray he was holding tilted, and one of the glasses nearly went sliding off.
He had to leave.
Needed to.
But then Zoya's face appeared in his mind again. Pale. Weak. Hooked to machines.
Shepherd straightened.
He moved around the edge of the room. One foot in front of the other. Careful. Calm.
He waited for the toasts to end. Waited for the crowd to shift. Waited for Arielle to look away from Darion.
Then it happened.
She turned.
Her eyes swept across the guests.
And landed on him.
For a second, nothing moved.
The room kept spinning. But the air between them froze.
Recognition.
Her mouth opened slightly. Her eyes narrowed.
He tilted his head.
Then gave the smallest nod.
A message only she would catch.
Her hand slipped away from Darion's. She whispered something to the woman beside her and took a step back from the crowd.
Shepherd followed.
He met her near the hallway between the ballroom and the conservatory. The music softened behind them. The gold lights turned into shadows.
She stood there.
Close.
But not too close.
"Why are you here?" she asked in a whisper.
Her voice was sharp. But it shook a little.
"I need to talk to you," Shepherd said. "Two minutes. That's all."
"This is not the time."
"There is no time," he said. "Zoya is in the hospital. She collapsed. The doctors said she won't make it unless she gets surgery. But I can't pay for it. They won't operate without money."
Arielle blinked.
She stepped back.
He took a slow breath. "I am not here to ruin your night. I'm not here to fight. I just need help."
She said nothing.
The hallway lights buzzed above them.
"I didn't know who else to call," he added. "I thought maybe… maybe you'd remember she was like a sister to you once."
Arielle looked away.
Her fingers curled near her stomach. Her mouth pressed into a tight line.
"Shepherd," she whispered. "You should not have come."
His chest ached. "Then help me. Let me go back with something. Anything. I'll pay it back. I swear on my life."
Arielle did not speak at first. Her hands stayed folded just under her chest, near the curve of her stomach. Her face held a softness for one small moment, like she almost cared. But then it changed.
The warmth vanished.
Like a mask slipping back into place.
"You should not be here," she said again, but this time firmer. "If someone sees you, they'll call security."
"I am not leaving until you listen," Shepherd said. His voice stayed low, but his words were shaking. "I know things ended badly between us. I know you hate me now. But Zoya has nothing to do with that."
"Shepherd…"
"She was a child when you met her," he pressed. "You braided her hair. You stayed up with her when she was sick. She called you her big sister. Do you remember that?"
Arielle's eyes flickered.
For a heartbeat, she seemed like the girl he used to love. The one who kissed Zoya's forehead after her first trip to the hospital. The one who had whispered, "I'll never leave you two."
Now she stood in a hallway wearing diamonds. And a ring from a man who had everything Shepherd did not.
"I can't," she finally said.
"Why not?"
"It is not that simple," she said. Her voice lowered. "You think I control the money? The accounts? My father made it clear. I am not to give you anything. Especially not after—"
"After what?" he asked.
She paused.
"After everything you ruined," she said, her voice trembling. "You think I forgot how you dragged my name through the press? How you showed up at my apartment, screaming? Huh? Or do you think Darion just let you slide after that beating you gave him? Do you know what I had to go through to make sure you didn't end up in jail or worse… dead? Do you?"
She continued, a new form of anger in her eyes, and whispered, "Do you know the beatings I endured, the fresh scars I now have to cover? I don't think you do. Look, Shepherd… you are a good person, the perfect man, but sometimes we have to make hard choices. Not everyone has the leisure of doing as they please, like you do. They made me choose."
"And you chose him?" Shepherd said, his voice low but fierce. "That sick bastard who has given you more scars than hugs? That same man?" He shook his head, taking a step forward. "Or have you forgotten how we met? How he publicly humiliated you at the club and beat you for confronting his infidelity?"
He paused for a moment, his fists tightening. "If I had not stepped up for you that night, do you know where you would be right now?" His voice cracked with frustration. "And you chose him over me? Over us?"
He took another step closer, his eyes burning with intensity. "I put my job and my life on the line for you that day! Who was there for you when you ended up in a wheelchair after that night? Who held your hand through all the pain and stayed up with you so you could be okay?" He gestured toward himself. "Me!! Not your arrogant father, or your precious family, and definitely not him!"
Shepherd took a deep breath, his anger simmering just below the surface. He moved closer, closing the gap between them. "And now you are standing here, dressed like a dream, pretending like I never existed, like I never mattered, like I caused all of this. You went back to him, to them, because you were greedy and selfish, and no one else ever mattered to you, not even Zoya." His words came out in a rush, raw and unfiltered. "Your choices are yours, and you can't blame anyone for them."
Arielle's lips parted, as though she were on the brink of tears, but they closed again, the silence stretching between them.
He stepped forward, his gaze steady, his voice quieter but still filled with urgency. "I am not asking you to love me again," he said, his voice softening for the first time. "I am not even asking you to give me the money. But if you have anything left in your heart for the girl who once looked up to you like a star…" He took a breath, his chest tightening. "Then please… help me. Give me that loan, and I promise you will never, ever see me again."
"I am sorry," Arielle whispered. "but I can't."
She turned to leave.
His hand reached out without thinking. He caught her wrist.
"Ari," he said. "Please."
She gasped.
Her whole body froze.
And then her voice turned sharp, loud, panicked.
"Let go of me," she shouted.
Shepherd dropped her arm. "I did not mean to—"
"He followed me here," she cried out. Her voice rose. "Help! Somebody help!"
Shepherd's chest caved in. "No. Arielle, don't do this."
People turned toward the hallway.
Gasps rose from the ballroom.
The music faltered. Footsteps rushed.
"He's obsessed with me," she sobbed loudly. "I told him we were over and he just kept showing up. I said no. I said stop. But he won't listen."
"Shepherd Nexon," a deep voice growled.
Darion Creed stepped through the crowd like a lion waking up.
He was calm. Smiling. But his hands were already curled into fists.
"You have five seconds to walk out of here," he said.
"I just came to ask for her help," Shepherd replied. "I am not here for a fight."
Darion did not wait.
His fist struck Shepherd in the face. The sound of it cracked like thunder. Guests screamed. Flashlights blinked. Someone knocked over a glass.
Shepherd stumbled backward, nearly crashing into the wall.
A second punch came from a guard.
Then another.
"Stop," Arielle shouted suddenly. "That is enough. Just get him out of here."
Darion smiled like he was proud of himself.
"Of course, my love," he said smoothly.
Then he gave a look to his men.
A cold, deadly look.
"Take him outside," he said. "No one wants to see this mess."
The guards grabbed Shepherd by both arms.
He tried to fight, but they were stronger.
The crowd moved aside like a curtain.
Someone whispered, "That's her crazy ex."
Another muttered, " So he is responsible for all those marks"
Shepherd lowered his head.
He said nothing.
As they dragged him past the glass doors and into the cold night, one last thing echoed behind him.
Arielle's silence.