Ares's POV
The Crestfall Gala.
The crystal lights burned bright against marble and velvet, light glittering across wine glasses and lavish gowns. It was the kind of evening I had mastered long ago… rooms where power was disguised as charm, where enemies smiled across champagne flutes and shook hands with knives hidden beneath their sleeves.
I had come for one reason: Duvall Holdings.
A name that had haunted boardrooms and whispered circles for years. A company with influence but no face. Tonight, the heiress was finally stepping into the light, and Knight Corps was poised to strike a deal that would echo across the continents.
That was all this was supposed to be.
Business. Calculation. Precision.
So why did I feel the strangest unease, as though something buried in my chest stirred awake for the first time in years?
The Master of Ceremonies commanded the stage, his words swelling with splendor.
"Ladies and gentlemen, esteemed guests… tonight, we welcome the enigmatic and mysterious heiress of Duvall Holdings."
The doors opened.
And the world… shifted.
She walked in as though the room belonged to her. The crowd inhaled collectively, drinking in the sight of a woman who seemed carved from elegance itself. Black hair spilling down her back, skin pale under crystal light, eyes blue as sapphire flame.
She moved like thunder wrapped in silk.
And something inside me jolted.
I didn't know her. Yet every step, every turn of her head, every note of her voice when she finally spoke… it scraped at the edge of memory.
"Good evening."
The sound of it slid through me like smoke. Controlled, polished, but beneath that control I swore I heard something else.
Something I remembered from a life that felt like another man's.
I tightened my grip on the glass in my hand, forcing myself to breathe.
No. It can't be.
But the more she spoke… the measured rhythm of her speech, the calculated pauses, the way she owned the silence… the harder it became to quiet the storm in my head.
She was no timid girl. She was a woman forged in fire, commanding attention as if the world itself bent to her.
And yet…
"Why do I feel as though I've heard that voice before, in another time? Why do I feel like I've seen those eyes, softer once, looking at me with…"
I crushed the thought before it finished.
The heiress spoke of alliances, of forging futures, of Knight Corps and Duvall Holdings signing a contract that would reshape industries. The applause that followed thundered through the hall, but I barely heard it. I was still trapped in the rhythm of her voice, the faint lilt that teased the edges of recognition.
She descended from the stage, and the wolves descended with her. Howell. Trent. Others with smiles too sharp to be sincere. I watched her handle them with poise, granting promises that were not promises, holding them at arm's length with the grace of a queen.
And I found myself staring. Searching.
Looking for a crack in the mask.
And then it happened.
Her eyes, lifting across the room, caught mine.
Storm met sapphire.
For a single heartbeat, I forgot the world existed.
There it was again… that pull. That ache like a scar pressed too hard. My chest tightened, my thoughts tangled, and before I could stop myself, I was already moving.
The crowd parted for me, as it always did. But this time it wasn't power that cleared the way… it was something rawer.
I stopped at her side. Up close, the effect was worse. Her perfume… faint, familiar, maddening. The tilt of her chin, proud but too carefully measured. The way her hand trembled ever so slightly against the glass, as if her control cost her more than she wanted anyone to know.
"Miss Duvall."
Her head lifted, mask in place, flawless. But her eyes… her eyes betrayed something. A flicker. A shadow.
I raised my glass, keeping my tone smooth, aloof. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you."
"Mr. Knight." She smiled politely, elegant as ever. "Knight Corp has a formidable reputation. A fitting partner for Duvall Holdings, I say."
Formidable. Partner. Her words were safe, professional. But the sound of them… my mind twisted, searching memory for where I had once heard that same timbre, softer, warmer.
I let a faint smirk touch my lips. "Formidable, yes. Some say ruthless. I prefer to think of it as… precise."
Her gaze didn't waver. "Precision is invaluable. It's what makes partnership thrive."
Partnership. My jaw flexed. Did she know the weight that word carried? Or was it just coincidence, just another weapon in this dance we called business?
"Inevitability," I said quietly, the word sliding from my tongue before I could stop it.
Her lips curved faintly. "Perhaps. But inevitability still has to prove… profitable."
The duel. That was what it had become. Each word sharpened, each reply woven with hidden edges.
I leaned closer, lowering my voice so the crowd couldn't hear. "Tell me, Miss Duvall… where have you been hiding? You wield mystery like a weapon. Power in silence. And yet… it feels… familiar."
Familiar. That was the only word I trusted myself to use. Because I couldn't shake it… the way my chest recognized her even when my mind screamed it was impossible.
Her breath hitched. Barely. But I caught it.
"Mystery ensures respect," she said coolly. "Curiosity can be… useful."
"Or dangerous." My eyes held hers. "Because curiosity demands answers."
The air between us thickened, charged. I searched her face for something… anything… that would either confirm the madness clawing at me or crush it entirely.
But her mask was flawless.
So I delivered the only weapon I had left. A test.
"Forgive me, Miss Duval," I murmured, letting my voice drop into silk. "But you remind me of someone I once knew. Though she was… different. Always timid. Nervous. Never this confident."
The words slipped between us like a knife.
Her throat tightened, but her expression did not. Her control was iron. And yet the smallest, subtlest fracture flickered in her gaze.
And I couldn't breathe.
Is it her?
I took another sip of champagne, maintaining my composure. Perhaps I was wrong. Perhaps grief and memory were playing tricks on me. Seven years was a long time. People changed. Ghosts stayed buried.
And yet, when I looked at her, I didn't feel like I was looking at a stranger.
The silence between us stretched, dangerous and delicate.
And then…
A flash.
From the corner of my eye, I caught it. A photographer. Not the kind meant for glossy society pages, but a man half-hidden behind a column, his camera lens pointed directly at us.
"Click."
The sound was swallowed by the music, but I heard it.
I saw it.
This wasn't a chance.
Someone wanted this moment captured. Someone wanted proof of the way Ares Knight looked at the mysterious heiress of Duvall Holdings.
My stomach hardened, my grip tightening on the glass until I thought it might shatter.
Because whether she was the woman I once knew or not… whether this was fate or madness… the fact remained:
Someone was watching.
And they wanted the world to see.