Chapter 6 – The First Encounter
The ballroom glittered like a cage made of glass and gold.
Strings swelled, laughter rippled, and somewhere a crystal flute rang too high—like the scream I'd swallowed years ago.
I adjusted the silver strap of my gown, felt the silk slide against my skin, and reminded myself to breathe. Tonight wasn't about beauty; it was about control.
"Smile, Sophie," my father murmured beside me, his proud eyes scanning the crowd. "We're about to announce a partnership that will shake the market."
I smiled, but it wasn't for him. It was for the ghost that lingered in the hall.
Then I saw him.
Ethan Cole.
He was laughing with investors near the stage, glass in hand, the same easy confidence that once made me believe I was safe. The same smile that had whispered trust me before he pressed the metaphorical knife into my back.
My pulse thudded once, hard enough to make the room tilt. I tasted metal behind my teeth, the phantom memory of blood and betrayal.
Calm down, Amara.
Not here. Not yet.
I straightened, let Sophie Alade's polished mask slide into place. When his gaze finally caught mine, it was like watching a storm recognize the sea.
For a heartbeat, I wondered if he'd know. If some fragment of his conscience would twitch and whisper, You've seen her eyes before.
But he didn't.
He smiled—politely, meaninglessly—and crossed the room.
"Miss Alade." His voice was smooth, deeper than I remembered, and my name—her name—rolled from his tongue like a test. "An honor to finally meet you. Your family's reputation precedes you."
So close.
So unaware.
I extended my hand, every muscle memorizing the motion. "Mr. Cole. I've heard so much about you."
His fingers closed around mine. Warm. Strong. The same hands that had once dragged me across marble floors, whispering apologies he never meant.
I forced my lips to curve. "Congratulations on the charity's success. It's… impressive."
He held my gaze, faintly intrigued. "You sound as if you've been watching us for a while."
I have, I wanted to say. From the other side of hell.
Instead, I lifted my glass, the liquid trembling just enough to betray me. "I keep up with powerful men. It's part of the game."
He laughed, low and satisfied. "Then perhaps we'll play it together someday."
A flicker of fury threatened to crack through the surface. I tilted my head, the picture of grace. "Perhaps."
He turned when someone called his name, and the air I'd been holding rushed from my lungs. I felt light-headed, as if I'd just stepped back from a cliff.
Across the hall, photographers flashed their cameras. Every burst of light painted him in gold, like the universe itself was mocking me—reminding me that monsters sometimes look divine.
I set my glass down. The stem nearly slipped from my fingers.
"Miss Alade."
The voice was softer, steadier—different. I turned.
Jason Cole stood a few feet away, dark suit sharp against the candlelight, eyes the color of storm clouds. Unlike his brother, his gaze didn't wander; it studied, measured, almost gentle.
"I didn't mean to startle you," he said. "You looked… miles away."
I forced a small laugh. "Business thoughts. Occupational hazard."
He smiled faintly. "Or personal ones. You looked like someone remembering a war."
My breath caught. For a moment, I forgot to hide. There was something disarming in his honesty—no performance, no mask. Just observation.
"I prefer to remember victories," I said at last.
He inclined his head. "Then I hope tonight becomes one."
When he walked away, the echo of his words lingered longer than it should have. I watched his silhouette blend into the crowd, wondering how two brothers could share blood but not the same darkness.
Ethan reappeared near the stage, microphone in hand, thanking donors for their generosity. Applause filled the hall; champagne bubbled; cameras flashed.
And I stood there, the reincarnated ghost of his sins, smiling like a saint.
He raised his glass toward the audience—and for the briefest instant, toward me.
"To new beginnings," he said.
A slow, cold smile curved my lips.
> Yes, I thought. To new beginnings… and to the end of yours.