Chapter 4 The Dance of Shadows

The sound of Nora's soft laughter floated down the grand staircase, blending seamlessly with the hum of chatter below. The golden glow of the chandeliers bathed the room in a warm light, casting elegant shadows across the marble floors. The grandeur of the Blackwood estate never failed to impress, but tonight, it was not the wealth or opulence that held everyone's attention-it was the sight of Nora, arm in arm with Andrew Molten, descending the staircase with effortless grace.

Their conversation carried a light, intimate rhythm, as though they had fallen into an old, familiar dance that time had never interrupted. Andrew leaned closer, his deep brown eyes twinkling with amusement.

"You haven't changed one bit, Nora. Still the same sharp wit and charm."

"And you're still a flatterer," Nora countered, her lips curling into a smirk. "Though I have to say, I missed this-missed you."

Andrew's gaze softened, a rare moment of sincerity slipping through. "Good to know," he said, his voice warm. "I've missed you too."

Their easy camaraderie sent a ripple of whispers through the ballroom. Guests exchanged curious glances, their murmurs weaving into the music. But none of them felt the sharp bite of jealousy quite like Lucas Blackwood.

From the base of the staircase, he stood rigid, his broad frame exuding silent fury. His dark eyes were locked onto them, sharp as a blade, dissecting every shared smile, every lingering glance. His fingers curled into tight fists at his sides, nails nearly biting into his palms. It was infuriating how effortlessly Nora could smile for another man when she barely spared him more than a curt nod.

By the time she and Andrew reached the floor, Lucas was already closing the distance between them. His movements were smooth, calculated, predatory. The air around him grew heavier, as if the room itself responded to his mood.

Nora caught sight of him then, and though her smile remained, something in her expression changed-just the faintest dimming of light in her emerald eyes. She straightened slightly, as if bracing herself.

"Lucas," she greeted, her voice polite, distant.

"Nora." His gaze flicked to Andrew, his jaw tightening. "Molten."

Andrew, unfazed by the obvious hostility, merely grinned. "Lucas. Always a pleasure."

Lucas's lips curled into something that was not quite a smile. "I'm sure it is." His voice was smooth, controlled, but his eyes burned with something darker. Without another word, he turned his attention back to Nora. "A word. Now."

Andrew's smile faltered just slightly, but before he could say anything, Nora stepped away. She didn't hesitate, didn't argue. She simply nodded and followed Lucas as he led her away from the crowd, toward the dimly lit edge of the ballroom.

The moment they were alone, his composed mask cracked.

"What exactly are you trying to do, Nora?" His voice was low, edged with barely restrained frustration.

She tilted her head, feigning innocence. "I don't know what you mean."

"Don't play dumb," Lucas snapped, his tone colder now. "You were parading around with him, laughing like-like you were in some kind of fairy tale."

"Fairy tale?" Nora echoed, her voice laced with amusement. "Don't flatter yourself, Lucas. Andrew is an old friend. That's all."

Lucas's expression darkened. "Old friend or not, you're my wife," he ground out. "And people are watching. Do you have any idea how this looks?"

"How this looks?" Nora repeated, her voice rising slightly. "This marriage is a business transaction, Lucas. Don't mistake it for anything more. I'm here for your grandfather's sake-not yours."

Her words struck harder than she probably realized. A muscle in Lucas's jaw ticked as he stepped closer, invading her space. His presence was suffocating, intense. "You're making a fool of me," he said, voice dangerously quiet.

Nora met his gaze, unyielding. "And you're doing a fine job of making one of yourself," she shot back. "Let me make something clear, Lucas. I'm not here to play the obedient little wife. I'm here to help your grandfather heal. Beyond that, I owe you nothing."

Lucas stared at her, his anger battling something deeper, something he couldn't quite name. It was frustrating how effortlessly she defied him, how she never cowered beneath his glare like so many others did.

Before he could respond, she turned on her heel and walked away.

Her posture was impeccable, her steps slow and deliberate, as though making a statement with each one. When she reached Andrew again, she slipped easily back into conversation, her smile returning like a perfectly placed mask.

Andrew, who had been watching the exchange with mild concern, leaned in. "Everything okay?"

"Perfectly fine," Nora replied, reaching for a glass of champagne from a passing waiter. She took a measured sip, letting the chilled liquid ease the tension coiled in her chest.

But Lucas knew better.

From across the room, he continued watching her, something unreadable flickering behind his dark gaze. The weight of her words pressed down on him, heavier than he wanted to admit.

For the first time, he felt the cracks in his carefully constructed world-and he wasn't sure how long he could hold it together.