Chapter 2

Eliana King POV:

Garrett' s reaction was immediate and visceral. He ripped himself away from Aden, his eyes blazing. Without a word, he grabbed the man by the collar, slamming him against a nearby wall, scattering art pieces and sending a canvas crashing to the floor. The music seemed to mute around them, replaced by a sudden, terrifying silence.

"What the hell was that?" Garrett's voice was a low growl, barely audible over the remaining throb of the bass. His face was a mask of fury, a dark storm brewing in his eyes.

Aden, still stunned, stumbled back, rubbing his neck. "What are you talking about, Garrett? She just-"

"She just what, Aden?" Garrett spat, stepping forward again, closing the distance. "Kissed you? Right in front of everyone? Right in front of me?" His hand clenched into a fist, trembling slightly.

Aden, regaining his footing, scoffed. "And what if she did? What business is it of yours? You have a wife, remember? The Ice Queen, Eliana King. Or did you forget your arranged marriage?" His words twisted the knife in my gut, even from my hiding spot in the crowd.

Garrett' s breath hitched. He closed his eyes for a fraction of a second, a flicker of something raw and desperate crossing his face. Then, in a move that shocked everyone, he pulled Aden into a fierce, almost brutal embrace. It was an act of desperation, of claiming.

Aden struggled, his hands coming up, pushing against Garrett's chest. "What are you doing? Get off me!" His voice was muffled, strained. I saw his fist connect with Garrett' s shoulder, then his back. Garrett didn't flinch. He held on, his face buried in Aden' s shoulder, his entire body rigid with a pain that was both physical and something far deeper.

His eyes, still visible over Aden's shoulder, were wide open, unfocused. They held a maelstrom of emotions: desire, heartbreak, despair, and a possessiveness so intense it was chilling. It wasn't the kind of rage I was used to seeing on him. This was something else entirely. It was devastation.

I felt a coldness spread through my veins, colder than any Alaskan winter. It wasn't the chill of my usual composure, but a paralyzing realization. The chaos I had tried to manage, the wildness I had dismissed as mere rebellion-it was all rooted in an agonizing, unrequited love for another man. For Aden.

Every single attempt he' d made to provoke me, every outrageous act, every sardonic remark, every fleeting moment of tenderness he' d offered me in public... it wasn' t about me at all. It was about him. It was about trying to make him jealous, trying to elicit a reaction from the man he truly loved.

I stood there, a ghost in the crowd, watching his tortured embrace, his desperate cling. All the anger I had felt, all the frustration at his uncontrolled nature, evaporated, replaced by a crushing emptiness. His vibrant emotions, his wild energy, his profound pain-it wasn' t for me. It was all for Aden. My mere existence in his life, our marriage, had been just another prop in his desperate drama.

I was irrelevant. A placeholder. A calculated move in his game. My perfectly ordered world, my icy facade, my carefully constructed identity-it felt like a hollow shell. What was I, if not a shield for Aden, and now, a pawn for Garrett?

The music slowly swelled back, the bass thrumming against my chest, but I was numb to it. The crowd began to disperse, Garrett and Aden still locked in their silent, painful tableau. I stayed rooted to the spot, a statue in the swirling, indifferent throng.

It must have been an hour, maybe more, before I snapped out of it. The club was starting to empty. Garrett and Aden were gone. I blinked, my eyes burning. My legs felt like lead. I hailed a cab, my voice hoarse when I gave my address.

The moment I stepped into my silent, immaculate home, I knew what I had to do. I picked up my phone, my fingers steady despite the tremor in my soul.

"Get me everything on Aden Daniel," I told my chief of security, Mark. "His current address, his financial status, his contacts, his daily routine. Every detail. And I need it by morning."

"Ma'am?" Mark sounded surprised. "Anything specific you're looking for?"

"Just... everything," I repeated, my voice colder than I intended. "And send someone to pick up a secure flash drive from my office safe. I'll email you the photos from my phone to cross-reference."

"Understood, ma'am."

I went to my private study, a room I associated with absolute control and strategic planning. But tonight, it felt like a tomb. I opened the secure drive, a repository of my personal, hidden life. Most of it contained old photos of Aden and me from college, our secret rendezvous, the whispered promises. It also held the details of the financial pipeline I had set up, anonymously, to support his struggling music career. And the legal documents, carefully crafted to protect him from my family's wrath, should they ever discover our past.

I uploaded the photos I had secretly taken tonight-Garrett embracing Aden, Garrett's tormented face, Aden's defiant one. My past and my present, colliding in a grotesque mockery of love.

The reports started coming in just after dawn. I sat at my desk, the early morning light casting long shadows across the polished surface. Each file I opened was a fresh cut.

Aden Daniel. Talented musician, yes, but perpetually struggling. He' d barely made ends meet since college. And then there were the photos. Not just of him and me, but of him and Garrett. Lots of them. Candid shots from art exhibits, quiet dinners, even a few blurry ones from some of Garrett' s more outrageous parties. Garrett, always looking at Aden with an intensity that burned through the pixels. Garrett, always laughing louder when Aden was near. Garrett, always defending Aden' s art, his choices, his reckless spirit, even when it clashed with his own family' s expectations.

My chief of security had even managed to dig up old social media posts, carefully scrubbed but still cached somewhere in the digital ether. Garrett's gushing comments on Aden's early, unpolished songs. Aden's playful jabs at Garrett's "corporate slave" life. Their shared history was a vibrant, messy tapestry woven with passion and fierce loyalty.

I saw the idealized love in Garrett's life. Aden was the first, the true love, the one Garrett had sacrificed so much for, even his own family's approval. The reports detailed how Garrett had consistently turned down lucrative opportunities that would take him away from the city where Aden lived, how he' d invested in Aden' s struggling music label, how he' d even used his own art to create buzz for Aden' s underground gigs. Garrett's life, his entire artistic rebellion, had been a desperate, prolonged attempt to carve out a space where he and Aden could exist freely.

He' d changed his entire lifestyle, embraced a wild, unconventional persona, specifically to defy the strictures of his own corporate family, the very strictures that had forced him away from Aden years ago. He had even embraced me, the Ice Queen, as a shield, a distraction, a tool to protect Aden from the scrutiny of our families. All those instances of his "kindness," his "concern," his "desire" for me-they were never real. They were just part of his desperate strategy. He was simply replicating my own strategy, the one I had used with Aden, but with a different target.

A freezing wave washed over me, stealing my breath. It wasn't just cold. It was utter desolation. I saw it all now. My marriage, my carefully constructed life with Garrett, every single interaction, had been a calculated performance on his part. He hadn't truly seen me. He had only seen a means to an end, a convenient distraction, a formidable shield.

I was a pawn. Used. Humiliated. Everything I had done, the sacrifices I had made, the emotional wall I had built, it had all been for nothing. I was nothing more than a convenient accessory, a temporary solution to a deeper yearning that had nothing to do with me.

The Eliana King who was programmed for success, not emotion, felt a tremor deep within her core. This wasn't merely a corporate misstep. This was a personal annihilation. My carefully built identity had been deconstructed, piece by agonizing piece, not by my enemies, but by the man I married.

I laughed, a dry, rasping sound that bounced off the silent walls of my study. He thought he was using me to protect Aden. He thought I was too cold, too calculating, to ever see through his charade. But I had. And now, the game had changed.

Garrett didn't come home that night. Or the next. I didn't reach out. I sat in my silent house, the reports spread out before me like a map of my own foolishness. He had used me, yes, but the raw, vulnerable emotion I had seen in his eyes when he looked at Aden... that was real. And that was something I, the Ice Queen, had never inspired in anyone.

Dawn broke, painting the sky in colors I barely noticed. I stood up, my resolve now as cold and sharp as a surgeon's scalpel. My heart was dead. But in its place, something new and dangerous was stirring.

I meticulously selected a dress-a King Corp blue, sharp and powerful. I styled my hair, a severe, elegant chignon. I looked in the mirror, not seeing Eliana King, but a weapon. A tool.

My grandfather, the formidable patriarch of the King family, held court in the main drawing-room. The air crackled with tension. My brother, Christian, sat beside him, looking far too smug.

"Eliana," Grandfather said, his voice a low rumble. "Where is Garrett? It is crucial that he attend this meeting. The merger terms still hang in the balance, and his recent... escapades... are not helping."

"He won't be joining us," I stated, my voice devoid of emotion.

My grandfather's eyes narrowed. "And why not? Does he think he's above his obligations?"

"He has no further obligations to us, Grandfather," I said, a faint, humorless smile touching my lips. "Because I'm divorcing him."

The room fell silent. The kind of silence that precedes an explosion.