Chapter 8 8

Christal ran blindly until her lungs burned. She ducked behind a massive marble pillar at the far edge of the ballroom, pressing her back against the cold stone.

She gasped for air, her chest heaving. She raised a shaking hand and wiped the man's blood off her swollen lips.

The ballroom was painfully bright. Security guards were moving through the crowd, calming the panicked guests. The orchestra, trying to restore order, began playing a slow, classical waltz.

Ethan was marching through the crowd, his face purple with rage. He spotted the edge of Christal's red dress behind the pillar.

He lunged forward, grabbing her wrist and violently yanking her out of hiding.

Ethan's eyes dropped to her bare feet, her ruined dress, and her swollen, red lips. Pure, venomous jealousy exploded in his chest.

"Where the hell were you?" Ethan hissed, his grip bruising her bone. "Who were you screwing in the dark?"

Christal tried to rip her arm away, but his grip was like a vice.

"I fell in the dark," she spat coldly. "Why do you care? Weren't you busy entertaining your heiress friends?"

Before Ethan could scream back, the microphone on the center stage whined loudly.

"Ladies and gentlemen," the host's amplified voice boomed across the room. "Please direct your attention to the stage. We are honored to welcome our most esteemed guest tonight."

The chaotic ballroom went dead silent. The crowd parted instantly, creating a wide, clear path to the stage. The look on the billionaires' faces was pure, unadulterated fear and respect.

Christal looked at the stage.

The moment she saw the man's face in the bright light, her lungs stopped working. The blood in her veins turned to solid ice.

He was wearing a minimalist, bespoke black suit that screamed unimaginable wealth. His face was carved from cold marble, ruthlessly handsome and terrifyingly blank.

It was the man from the dark hallway.

And right there, on his bottom lip, was a fresh, angry red bite mark.

The guests noticed the blood. Whispers broke out like wildfire. People stared in shock, wondering what kind of suicidal woman would dare bite this man.

"Please welcome," the host said, his voice actually shaking with reverence, "the heir to the Bush empire, Mr. Abraham Bush."

A bomb went off inside Christal's brain.

The dark hotel room. The greasy face of Vice President Kramer. The terrifying man on the stage. The pieces violently crashed together, shattering her reality.

Kellie's plan had failed.

The man who took her virginity, the man she thought was a disgusting, low-level director, was Abraham Bush. The most powerful, ruthless billionaire in New York.

And he was Gwendolyn Vasquez's fiancé.

On stage, Gwendolyn smiled brightly, soaking in the envy of the crowd. She tilted her head and tried to slide her hand further up Abraham's arm to show possession.

Abraham smoothly stepped away, breaking the physical contact completely.

His deep, bottomless eyes scanned the massive room. They bypassed the billionaires, the politicians, and the cameras. His gaze locked with laser precision onto the marble pillar at the back of the room.

He found Christal.

Their eyes met across the sea of people. Abraham's gaze was heavy with dark mockery and an absolute, terrifying possessiveness. The corner of his mouth curved up into a dangerous smirk.

Christal was nailed to the floor. She started shaking violently. She had just bitten the one man in the world who could erase her existence with a single phone call.

Ethan felt her shaking. He frowned and followed her line of sight up to the stage. When he saw Abraham Bush staring directly at his fiancée, a cold sweat broke out on Ethan's neck.

Abraham reached out and took the microphone from the host.

"The sudden blackout tonight," Abraham said slowly, his voice a low, commanding rumble that sent shivers down the spine of every person listening. He didn't look at Gwendolyn. His eyes burned straight through the crowd, locking onto Christal with an intensity that sucked the air from the room. "It brought an unexpected... revelation."

The crowd gasped.

Gwendolyn's smile froze. Her head snapped toward Abraham, then followed his line of sight to the back of the room.

When Gwendolyn saw that Abraham was staring at Christal-the cheap whore she had just poured wine on-her eyes widened in horror. Toxic, murderous jealousy twisted her beautiful face into something ugly.

The pressure in the room was crushing Christal's chest. She couldn't breathe.

She ripped her hand out of Ethan's loosened grip. She turned around and sprinted toward the massive oak doors of the ballroom.

"Christal!" Ethan roared, his pride shattered by her public rejection.

He took a step to chase her.

Two men, who had been standing near a marble pillar looking like ordinary, unassuming guests just seconds prior, stepped smoothly into Ethan's path. They crossed their arms, their tailored suits stretching over massive frames, forming an impenetrable human wall.

"Mr. Bush requires a peaceful environment," the bodyguard said, his voice flat and threatening. "Do not cause a scene."

Ethan was trapped.

Christal burst through the front doors of the estate. The freezing night wind hit her wet dress. She ran barefoot down the asphalt driveway. Sharp rocks cut the soles of her feet, but she didn't feel the pain.

She flagged down a passing taxi and threw herself into the backseat. She curled into a ball, tears streaming silently down her face.

Back in the ballroom, Abraham watched the doors swing shut.

He tossed the microphone onto the floor. He ignored Gwendolyn's pale, shaking form and walked straight down the stairs.

He walked over to Avery, who was holding the pair of cheap high heels Christal had left behind.

Abraham stared at the shoes. He slowly rolled his thumb over his index knuckle.

"Ten minutes," Abraham ordered, his voice dropping to a lethal whisper. "I want to see her entire file on my desk."