‎📖 Bound by Fate, Tied by Love
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‎🌹 Chapter 9: Whispers Beneath the Chandelier
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‎The chandelier swayed again—just slightly, but enough to still the laughter and chatter of the ballroom. A ripple of unease spread through the guests like a tremor beneath polished marble. Music faltered, the violinists exchanging uncertain glances, until the conductor gave a sharp nod for them to continue.
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‎The waltz resumed, but lighter now, as if the strings themselves feared breaking the silence.
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‎Adrian's arm tightened around Isabella, drawing her closer until she could hear the steady, deliberate rhythm of his breathing. "Don't show fear," he murmured, his gray eyes never leaving the glittering fixture above them. "They feed on it."
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‎"They?" Isabella asked, her voice trembling despite her effort to appear calm.
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‎But Adrian didn't answer. His gaze swept the room, landing briefly on Chloe, who now stood at the far end of the ballroom, her smile deceptively serene. Her glass of champagne glistened in her hand as she raised it in their direction, like a silent toast.
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‎Isabella's stomach knotted. The gesture felt less celebratory and more like a warning.
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‎Then—movement.
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‎From the corner of her eye, Isabella saw him again. The man from the shadows. No longer hidden, but weaving between the guests with calculated ease. His dark eyes flickered over the crowd, lingering on Adrian before resting, briefly but piercingly, on her.
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‎It was only a second, but Isabella felt the weight of his gaze like cold steel pressing against her skin.
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‎‎Adrian shifted, placing himself subtly in her line of sight, shielding her. "Stay behind me," he whispered.
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‎Her breath caught. "Who is he?"
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‎Adrian's jaw flexed, but his answer was a warning instead of a name: "A ghost that shouldn't be walking in this room."
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‎Before she could press him, the chandelier groaned overhead. A crystal shard loosened and dropped, shattering on the floor not far from where they stood. Gasps broke out. The music halted altogether this time.
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‎Panic rippled through the guests. Servants rushed forward, murmurs rising like a storm.
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‎Adrian moved swiftly, guiding Isabella toward the edge of the room. "We're leaving," he said firmly.
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‎But Chloe intercepted them.
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‎"Leaving so soon?" Her voice was smooth, her smile sharp as glass. She stepped into their path, her gown sweeping elegantly across the floor. "What a shame. The night has only just begun."
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‎Adrian's glare was ice. "Step aside, Chloe."
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‎"Or what?" she challenged softly, her gaze flicking between him and Isabella. "You'll cause a scene? Draw even more eyes to your… fragile little fiancée?"
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‎Isabella felt Chloe's words like venom curling around her spine. Fragile. Outsider. Unworthy.
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‎But before she could react, Adrian spoke with quiet authority. "This isn't your game to play. Not tonight."
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‎For the briefest moment, Chloe's mask cracked—something sharp and wounded flickered in her eyes—but she quickly smoothed it over with a mocking laugh. "Very well. Run, then. But remember, Adrian—shadows follow even in the brightest light."
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‎She stepped aside with a curtsy that felt more like a strike.
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‎Adrian wasted no time, steering Isabella quickly toward a side corridor, away from the curious eyes of the ballroom. The sound of voices, glass, and music faded as they slipped into the dimly lit hallway.
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‎Isabella's heart pounded in her chest. "Adrian… what's happening? Who was that man? And why does Chloe—"
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‎"Not now," he cut her off, though his voice was softer than before. He stopped abruptly, turning to face her, his hand still on her arm. "Isabella, you must trust me. No matter what you see. No matter what you hear. Do you understand?"
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‎His gray eyes burned with intensity, but beneath it was something else—fear.
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‎She nodded slowly, though confusion clouded her thoughts. "I trust you… but you're keeping too much from me. Secrets that could hurt us both."
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‎His lips parted as though to answer, but before he could, footsteps echoed down the corridor.
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‎Heavy. Deliberate.
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‎The man in the shadows emerged, no longer hiding—his tall frame cutting a striking silhouette in the flickering candlelight.
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‎"Adrian Cole," the man said, his voice smooth but dangerous, carrying a weight that silenced the air itself. "You can't protect her forever."
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‎Isabella froze, every instinct screaming at her to run—but Adrian stepped forward, shielding her completely.
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‎The ballroom had been a stage. The dance, a distraction.
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‎But here, in the quiet corridors of power and secrets—
‎The real game was about to begin.
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