The flashes of cameras exploded like fireworks the moment Emma and Alexander stepped out of the sleek black limousine.
It was supposed to be a smooth evening. Another business gala. Another stage where Alexander Blackwood displayed his ruthless aura and reminded everyone why his empire remained untouchable. Emma had prepared herself for another round of pretending—smiling when expected, walking gracefully at his side, ignoring the sting of whispers that followed her everywhere.
But tonight, something felt… off.
The reporters were louder. The camera clicks were sharper. And the tension in the air was thicker than usual, suffocating her in invisible ropes.
"Keep your chin up," Alexander's deep voice murmured near her ear, his hand resting lightly at her waist as if to steady her. "They smell weakness the way wolves smell blood. Don't give them the satisfaction."
Emma nodded, tightening her grip on the glittering silver clutch in her hand. Her gown—a deep emerald velvet with a daring slit—had been carefully chosen by Alexander's stylists to make a statement. The fabric shimmered under the flashing lights, but she couldn't shake the sensation that tonight's spotlight burned a little too bright.
And then it came.
The question that sliced through the air like a blade:
"Miss Emma, is it true you were already married before becoming Mrs. Blackwood?"
The world seemed to freeze.
Emma's breath hitched. Her heels nearly faltered on the crimson carpet.
The reporters surged forward, microphones thrust out like weapons.
"Is it true you're hiding a child?""Do the Blackwoods know about your past?""Was this marriage a cover-up?"
A scandal. A very public, very damning scandal—unleashed right in front of the entire city.
Emma's pulse thundered in her ears. She wanted to deny it, to scream that it was a lie, but her throat felt clogged, strangled by shock.
And then—Alexander moved.
His arm tightened around her waist, his voice smooth and commanding as he addressed the reporters with the kind of authority that could silence storms.
"My wife has no need to answer to baseless rumors," he said coolly, his dark eyes glittering with danger. "Anyone foolish enough to print such lies will deal directly with Blackwood lawyers."
The murmurs didn't stop. If anything, they grew louder, like flames fed by gasoline. The scandal had already been unleashed—and nothing could shove it back into the shadows.
Inside the ballroom, Emma forced herself to smile, even as whispers rippled through the glittering crowd like a poisonous tide. Champagne glasses clinked. Music played. Yet all she could hear were the hushed words people thought she couldn't catch.
"Already married before…""A child?""No wonder the marriage was so sudden."
Her skin prickled with heat. Her heart pounded as though it wanted to tear free from her chest. Who had done this? Who had planted such vicious lies?
She didn't have to think too hard.
Her eyes swept the room and landed on her.
Serena.
The ex who wouldn't leave. The woman who had once been the center of Alexander's orbit and clearly wasn't finished with her games. Serena stood across the ballroom in a shimmering crimson gown, her lips curved into the kind of smile that was anything but sweet.
Emma's nails dug into her clutch.
Of course. Of course Serena would choose tonight—this grand gala packed with media and elites—to strike.
Alexander's hand pressed gently against her back, guiding her through the room with unshaken poise. But Emma felt the tension in his body, the tightly coiled restraint he carried with every step. He was furious. Not at her—but at whoever dared to use her as a weapon against him.
And yet, Emma knew. This wasn't just about Alexander's empire. This was about her. Her past. Her name. And the fact that, if this scandal gained momentum, it could ruin her life in ways she couldn't even begin to imagine.
The evening blurred into a haze of forced smiles and polite greetings. Emma moved like a ghost beside Alexander, answering when necessary, staying silent when it was safer. All the while, her thoughts churned violently.
Serena's smug expression across the ballroom was unbearable. Every now and then, their eyes would meet, and Emma swore she could almost hear her whispering: You don't belong here. You never will.
When Alexander excused himself to speak with a cluster of foreign investors, Emma slipped away toward the powder room, desperate for air.
But she didn't get far.
"Enjoying the show?" Serena's voice dripped with venom as she appeared at Emma's side, her crimson gown glinting like spilled blood under the chandeliers.
Emma froze, then slowly turned to face her.
"Funny," Emma said quietly, her lips curving into a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "I was about to ask you the same thing."
Serena tilted her head, feigning innocence. "Oh, don't look at me like that. You can't blame me if people finally start asking questions about your… colorful past."
Emma's chest tightened, but she refused to flinch. "Colorful past? You mean the lies you've been feeding the press?"
Serena leaned closer, her perfume cloying and suffocating. "Lies? Or truths you'd rather stay buried? Tell me, Emma, how long do you think you can keep playing the perfect wife before Alexander realizes you're nothing but a pretty mask?"
Emma's fingers twitched against her clutch. Every part of her wanted to slap the smugness off Serena's face. But she didn't. She couldn't. Not here. Not now.
Instead, she leaned in, her voice sharp as glass. "Careful, Serena. Knives cut both ways."
For the first time, a flicker of surprise crossed Serena's expression. But it lasted only a second before she smirked again, her eyes glittering with cruelty.
"We'll see," she purred, before sweeping away, her gown trailing like a river of blood behind her.
When Emma returned to Alexander's side, his eyes flicked over her, reading her as easily as one might read an open book.
"What did she say?" he asked under his breath.
Emma hesitated, then shook her head. "Nothing worth repeating."
But Alexander's jaw tightened anyway, his gaze hardening like steel. "She wants a war," he murmured. "Then she'll have one."
Emma's stomach knotted. Because the truth was—Serena wasn't just after Alexander's empire. She was after Emma.
And tonight's scandal was only the beginning.
Hours later, when the gala ended and they finally returned to the Blackwood estate, Emma collapsed against the bedroom door, her energy drained.
The city's gossip channels were already ablaze. Social media feeds flashed with headlines:
BLACKWOOD BRIDE HIDING A SECRET PAST?SCANDAL AT THE GALA—WHO IS EMMA, REALLY?
Emma pressed her palms against her face, her heart sinking deeper with every passing second.
Alexander entered behind her, his expression unreadable. He set his phone down on the table, then approached her slowly, like a storm gathering strength.
"Emma."
She lowered her hands, meeting his gaze.
"Tell me the truth," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "Is there anything in your past they can use against you? Anything at all?"
Her throat tightened. The truth.
There were things she hadn't told him. Shadows she carried. A past she had hoped would stay buried forever.
And now, with the entire city watching, she realized—those shadows were about to come clawing back into the light.
The first scandal had exploded. But Emma knew this was only the beginning.
And if she didn't learn to fight on this battlefield of wealth, power, and knives hidden behind smiles… she wouldn't survive the next one.