The air in the grand ballroom was a suffocating blend of expensive perfume, spilled spirits, and the frantic pulse of electronic music. Elsa moved through the crowd like a shimmering mirage, her eyes darting between the faces of socialites who were lost in their own world of shallow pleasures. Every corner she turned was filled with the same noise—the clinking of crystal glasses, the practiced laughter of flirtatious debutantes, and the heavy, rhythmic thrum of bass that made the floorboards tremble.
She was searching for a specific silhouette, a specific presence that anchored her in this chaotic sea of humanity.
"Where is this Leo?" Elsa muttered, her voice swallowed by a sudden swell in the music.
A flicker of genuine frustration sparked in her spectral heart. She had just overheard a conspiracy that could dismantle Leo's entire future, and the one person who needed to hear it was nowhere to be found.
"Whenever I need him—whenever I have something truly important to say—he just disappears," she scolded him in her mind, her lips moving as she spoke the words aloud to no one. "Is this a habit of his? To vanish and leave me in trouble? To make me wander through this madness alone?"
She paused near a towering floral arrangement, her reflection invisible in the nearby mirrors. A wave of self-reproach hit her.
"First, I should scold myself," she whispered, her shoulders sagging. "I was the one who thought Lucy was a good girl. She seemed so kind... her family looked decent, almost noble. They were friends and partners to Leo's family. I thought Leo was just being cynical. He told me not to believe people by their looks, and I thought he was overthinking it. But he was right. He was so right."
The image of Thomas and Linda in that room flashed before her eyes, followed by the shocking revelation of Lucy's secret marriage.
"How could Lucy want to cheat Leo like that?" she wondered, her brow furrowing in disgust. "How could she participate in such a web of lies if she is already in a relationship? And her father... Thomas... behaving like that with a girl younger than his own daughter. They don't want Leo. They don't want the man. They only want the wealth—the billions that belong to him and his father."
She shook her head, a sense of awe mingling with her frustration.
"How can Leo be so right and so intelligent every single time?"
Her mind drifted back to a time when she was Leah, standing in a different hallway, hearing a different warning. Leo had told her then, with that same piercing intensity, to stay away from Easton. "Never try to be in a relation with Easton. He is bad." He had seen the darkness in that man long before she had felt its shadow.
Anger and regret swirled within her. She resumed her search, weaving through the dancers and the drinkers, but the tall, broad-shouldered man in the black jacket was nowhere to be seen.
"This Leo is troubling me so much," she sighed, closing her eyes for a brief moment to steady her nerves. "Where could he have gone?"
Suddenly, the air behind her shifted. A familiar warmth radiated against her back, and the scent of that expensive, sophisticated perfume—sandalwood and something cold like rain—washed over her.
"What did you say to me, Miss Elsa?"
Elsa spun around, her eyes wide. Leo was standing there, a small, knowing smile playing on his lips. His black aviator glasses were tucked into his pocket, and his gaze was sharp, pinning her where she stood.
"I—I was trying to say—"
"You called me intelligent and smart, right?" Leo interrupted, his grin widening slightly. "Yes, I am. That is Leonardo Kingston for you."
Elsa looked around nervously. The party was in full swing; dozens of people were within earshot, busy with their own drinks and gossip.
"Not here," she whispered.
Leo stepped forward, his expression shifting as if he were about to say something meaningful, something private.
"No!" Elsa shouted, the word erupting from her before she could stop it.
She turned and bolted, her translucent form moving with a speed that defied the physical crowd. she raced toward the grand staircase, her heart—or the memory of it—hammering against her ribs. She flew up the stairs and ducked into the first empty room she could find, slamming the door behind her.
A second later, the door swung open again. Leo stepped inside, his face no longer smiling. He looked furious, his eyes flashing with a mix of anger and something that looked dangerously like fear.
"Where did you go, Miss Elsa?" he scolded, his voice low and vibrating with tension. "Do you have any idea how worried I was about you? You say I disappear? I could say the exact same thing to you!"
Elsa opened her mouth to argue, but her gaze dropped to his hands. Her breath hitched. His right hand was bruised, the knuckles split and dripping with fresh, crimson blood.
"What is this?" she gasped, stepping toward him, her anger forgotten. "There's blood... Leo, you're injured! How did you do this to yourself?"
Leo stood his ground, his eyes burning with a cold, serious light. "First, answer my question, Elsa."
"No!" she countered, her voice rising in a soft but firm tone. "You answer mine first. Your hand is bleeding! We need to get your wound treated immediately."
Leo looked down at his hand as if he had only just noticed the red stains on his cuff. He looked back at her, his expression unreadable.
"This is not my blood, Miss Crazy Girl."
Elsa froze, her hands folding over her chest as she stared at him. "What? Then... whose blood is it?"
A few minutes earlier, the ballroom had felt like a cage to Leo. He had been searching for Elsa since the moment Thomas had made that ridiculous announcement. He had ignored the socialites, the business partners, and the hangers-on, his mind entirely focused on the shimmering girl who had vanished from his sight.
"Look! The famous Leonardo is here with us!" someone shouted as he passed the bar.
Leo didn't even turn his head.
"Hey Leo! We're huge fans... and we were your classmates, too!" another voice called out. "Come on, join us for a drink!"
The speakers were Henry and Gary, two men Leo remembered from his university days—men who had inherited wealth but possessed none of the character to manage it. They were sitting at a high table with their girlfriends, Tasha and Margret, all of them clearly deep into their third or fourth drinks of the evening.
Leo ignored them, his eyes scanning the balcony. He felt a knot of worry tightening in his gut. Where was she? Was she safe? Had Lucy's father noticed her?
Henry leaned back, a drunken smirk on his face. "The famous, rich, and popular Rockstar seems to be worried about someone," he commented loudly enough for the surrounding tables to hear.
"Yes," Gary replied with a sloppy grin. "It looks like he's searching for a girlfriend who's gone missing."
They both laughed. Leo stopped walking. He felt the familiar heat of a fighter's instinct rising in his chest.
"Leo must have plenty of girlfriends," Henry continued, his voice dripping with malice. "He's hot, he's a billionaire, he's the son of a billionaire... he's the perfect target."
"His girlfriend must be with him only for the money," Gary added, nodding sagely. "All girls are after the cash, right? Maybe she left him suddenly for a man with a bigger yacht."
The laughter that followed was the final straw.
Leo turned. He moved so fast that the two men didn't even have time to set their glasses down. He was in their space in an instant, his presence looming over them like a thundercloud.
"There are some very wrong lines you guys just used," Leo said, his voice terrifyingly calm. "I'm going to set them right. I'm going to make sure you never use your bloody mouths to comment on my life or anyone else's ever again."
"Leo, wait—" Henry started, but the apology died in his throat.
"This is Leo's promise," he hissed. "I'll tell you a secret—an open secret known only to those who make the mistake of crossing my limits. I am not just a successful Rockstar. I am a fighter who fights his own battles. I will play with the heads of anyone who badmouths what I care about."
He leaned in closer, his eyes cold.
"I was a national boxing champion at a very young age. I left my dream of the ring for my family, but the fighter in me? He's still very much alive."
Before Henry could blink, Leo's fist connected with his jaw. A sickening crack echoed as Henry spun out of his chair. Gary tried to stand, but Leo was already there, a sharp slap across his face followed by a brutal punch to the nose.
Blood splattered onto the white tablecloth. The two girlfriends screamed, backing away as their boyfriends collapsed, clutching their faces.
"Please!" Henry gasped, blood bubbling from his mouth. "Forgive us! We won't say anything else about your girl!"
Leo stood over them, his chest heaving, his knuckles stained red.
"If you ever comment on her again, I will kill you both," Leo warned, his voice a low, lethal growl. "And listen to me carefully: it's not just women. Men can be gold diggers too. People like you are the best example of that. Learn to respect women first."
He turned and walked away, leaving them in a heap of shame and broken pride. His hand was dripping with their blood, but he didn't care. He was only thinking of Elsa.
He found her a moment later near the bar counter, her back to him, her head moving as she searched the room. He stepped up behind her, listening as she shouted his name in frustration.
Back in the quiet upstairs room, Leo looked at Elsa's shocked face.
"This blood isn't mine, Miss Crazy Girl," he repeated. "I just had a fight with two people."
Elsa stared at his hand, then back at his face, her expression a mix of disbelief and disapproval. "Do you always fight with people?" she asked, her voice tight.
"Oh, hello? I had a reason to fight," Leo shot back.
"People who fight often are not good people, Leo," Elsa lectured, her eyes narrowing. "You are a Rockstar. You shouldn't lose your cool like that. It gives you a bad name. It gives people a bad impression. And besides... fighting isn't good for your health."
Leo stared at her, stunned by her audacity. "How can you judge me without even listening to my side of the story?"
Elsa looked away, looking completely disinterested in his excuses.
The dismissal stung more than any punch ever could. Leo felt his patience snap, and for the first time, his heart slipped past the guard he kept so carefully maintained.
"I punched those two guys because they were talking about you!" he shouted.
Elsa flinched, her eyes snapping back to his.
"They called you my girlfriend," Leo continued, his voice cracking with a raw, honest heat. "And they spoke ill of you. They insulted you. Yes, I am a Rockstar. I have my cool, I have my patience, and I know I'm popular. But I will never stay silent if anyone—anyone—comments on my dear ones."
Elsa stood frozen, the silence in the room suddenly heavy and profound. The words "my dear ones" echoed in the small space, vibrating between them.
Leo turned away, his heart racing faster than it had during the fight.
How could I let that out? he wondered, a sense of panic rising in his chest. How can I reveal my feelings to this crazy girl? Why did I get so angry at Henry and Gary? Why does it feel like my world stops whenever she's in danger?
He looked at his bloodied hand, his mind a blur of confusion. Why am I feeling something so strong for Elsa?