Back at the Blackwood estate, the air rippled with anticipation. The staff moved with military precision, preparing not just an outfit—but a reveal. The woman Killian Blackwood was about to bring into the spotlight would change the city's conversation overnight.
Lilian Monroe stood in the center of a hurricane of designers, stylists, and whispered opinions. The black silk gown molded to her figure like molten midnight, the thigh-high slit a whisper of danger. Her golden-brown waves were sculpted into luxurious curls, and her hazel eyes—lined with smoky precision—gleamed with something that flickered between fear and defiance.
She stared at herself in the mirror. The girl staring back didn't look like a prisoner. She looked like power wrapped in silk. But beneath the makeup and diamonds, Lilian could feel her chest tightening.
What am I even doing?
When she stepped into the hallway, time halted. The staff turned in silent awe. Murmurs followed. Clara's lips curved slightly. Samantha, Killian's PA, stepped forward.
"You look… breathtaking," she said warmly. "Mr. Blackwood made a fine choice."
Lilian blinked, momentarily thrown off by the sincerity. "Thank you," she murmured.
And then—
Killian appeared.
At the base of the grand staircase, his silver cufflinks glinted as he fastened them. His sharp blue gaze lifted—and froze. The air thickened.
For a moment, his expression cracked.
Possession. Lust. Fury.
He masked it quickly, turning on his heel. "Let's go," he said, voice clipped.
The ride to the gala was wrapped in silence. Not just awkwardness—strategy.
As the Bellavue Grand loomed ahead, lit up like a cathedral of wealth, Killian finally spoke. "Tonight, you behave. Stay close. Smile when I say. You're with me tonight."
Lilian turned her face toward him. "Yours?" she echoed, her voice calm but acidic.
His gaze burned into her. "Yes. Mine." Then, as if remembering the audience awaiting them, he added, "And we're a couple. Play the part."
Before she could answer, the car door opened. Flashbulbs exploded.
The moment they stepped out, gasps broke through the crowd. Reporters leaned forward. Influencers angled their phones. Even the jaded elite froze.
Killian Blackwood had brought a mystery woman to the gala.
The cameras screamed her arrival. "Who is she?" "Is that his fiancée?" "Another escort?" "She's stunning—look at that dress!"
Lilian's pulse spiked.
Killian's arm wrapped around her waist—firm, almost bruising—as he guided her through the gold-trimmed entrance like a predator claiming his prize.
Inside, the Bellavue Grand shimmered with chandeliers and whispered ambition. Billionaires, heiresses, politicians. Deals were being made over flutes of champagne.
Heads turned.
One woman—icy blonde, wrapped in couture—let her eyes glide over Lilian and scoffed. "Another one," she muttered to her friend. "He always did like them young and helpless."
Lilian heard it. And for the first time, her gaze sharpened. I'm not helpless, she thought. And I'm not here for you.
Killian leaned close, lips brushing her ear. "Smile."
She did. And it was deadly.
But then the music seemed to pause.
Whispers spread like smoke.
"He's here," someone said.
Cameras spun. Heads turned.
And that's when Nathaniel Hayes entered.
The man was impossible to ignore—tall, lean, dressed in a charcoal tuxedo that seemed to absorb light. His green eyes swept across the room, dangerous and dazzling.
Lilian froze.
Something primal shifted in her gut.
It wasn't attraction.
It was the sense of being seen—and wanted—not as a person, but as a possession.
Killian's fingers tightened on her waist like a vice.
Nathaniel's gaze locked on them, and his smirk unfurled like smoke. He strode toward them—every guest watching, the air pulsing with expectation.
He didn't greet Killian.
He greeted Lilian.
"Well, well. They weren't lying," Nathaniel said smoothly. "You're even more exquisite up close."
Killian stepped between them.
"She belongs to me," he said—slowly, deliberately—his voice like a knife dragged across silk.
The tension was palpable. People leaned in. Glasses paused mid-air.
Nathaniel's smile darkened. "A shame," he said. "If I'd been in town, I would've outbid you. I'd have spent my entire fortune just to ruin yours."
A hush fell.
Lilian felt exposed, caught between titans.
Killian didn't blink. "Then it's good you stayed away," he said flatly. "I don't share."
Nathaniel's eyes lingered on Lilian like a threat. "I never asked you to."
Just then, the host called for attention.
A toast.
Killian and Nathaniel stepped apart, but the storm didn't move on. It hovered above the gala like thunder waiting to break.
---
AT THE MONROE ESTATE
Hundreds of miles away, Julie Monroe watched the gala broadcast on TV. She tilted her head, her lips twisting bitterly. "So the little princess finally found her crown."
"Mom! Dad! You seeing this?" she called.
Their mother rushed in. The camera caught Killian Blackwood... and then Lilian.
Her mother's hand flew to her mouth. "Lilian…"
Julie's eyes narrowed, arms crossed tight over her chest.
Their father stumbled into the room—and froze.
"No," Reginald whispered. "He's back?"
His wife turned to him, voice tight with dread. "You told me he was gone."
Reginald's face turned to stone. "He was."
Julie blinked. "Wait—what?"
Neither parent answered.
Reginald grabbed his phone and walked away, voice low and urgent. "He's not supposed to be here. He can't be here."
Julie watched him go, an odd silence falling over her features.
Her smirk faded.
Just for a second, she looked… small.
Then she blinked it away and stood. "Well. If monsters are coming back to town, I might as well look good for them."
"Julie!" her mother cried.
But Julie only tossed her coat over her shoulder. "Maybe it's Lilian's turn now. But mine's coming."
She slammed the door behind her.
---
BACK AT THE GALA
Lilian stood near the bar, the weight of the night pressing in.
She caught sight of herself in a mirror—this glamorous stranger in silk and diamonds. Her lips parted slightly.
Is this who I've become? Or who I've always been?
Before she could move—
Nathaniel appeared at her side.
"Careful," he said, his voice low. "Men like Killian may claim you. But they rarely keep what they can't control."
She stiffened. "I'm not yours to threaten."
He leaned in, a breath from her ear. "Not yet."
Killian appeared, eyes blazing.
Nathaniel stepped back, unbothered. "Until next time."
Killian didn't speak. He simply reached for her hand, pulling her away from the crowd.
"You stay away from him," he said tightly.
"You think you can order me around?" she shot back.
He halted, turning to face her. His eyes burned like frost. "Yes."
She held his gaze, heart racing.
"You're not a toy, Lilian," he said. "But you belong with me."
The music swelled. The night shimmered.
But the game had begun.
And Lilian Monroe was now more than a mystery woman.
She was the prize.
And war was coming.