Chapter 3 Cage of Gold

The glittering ballroom, draped in silks and brimming with the city's elite, was a world away from the quiet seclusion of the Blackwood mansion. Every inch of the grand hall gleamed under the golden glow of chandeliers, casting intricate patterns of light across the polished marble floor. The scent of expensive perfumes and aged wine lingered in the air, blending with the soft melody of the orchestra playing in the background.

Nora, resplendent in an emerald gown that clung to her curves like liquid silk, stood beside Lucas, a silent observer amidst the opulent chaos. The dress, a masterpiece of fabric and artistry, accentuated the sharp contrast between her ethereal beauty and the cold elegance of the Blackwoods. Her presence, both unexpected and undeniable, sent a ripple through the gathered guests.

Heads turned as they entered, conversations hushed into murmurs, and curious eyes followed her every movement. Women, their envy barely concealed behind polite smiles, examined her with scrutiny, as if searching for flaws. Men, captivated by her otherworldly beauty, stared with unconcealed interest.

Lucas, despite his usual indifference, felt an unfamiliar irritation creep into his veins. He didn't understand why it bothered him, why the sight of other men admiring his wife stirred something close to possessiveness within him. It was irrational. Their marriage was a mere arrangement-a contract signed in necessity, not love. And yet, the idea of another man gazing at Nora with desire left a bitter taste in his mouth.

She, however, remained unaffected. Her expression was composed, her emerald eyes sweeping over the crowd with a detached gaze. She moved through the throng with quiet grace, every step a silent proclamation of her independence. If she was aware of the attention, she gave no indication.

A familiar voice interrupted Lucas's thoughts.

"Lucas Blackwood," Kevin Brown greeted, his tone laced with familiarity. The heir to the Brown Enterprise extended a hand, his polished charm evident in the effortless way he commanded attention. Beside him stood Anthony Brice, heir to the Brice Hotel Chain, equally poised, equally intrigued.

Lucas shook Kevin's hand, offering a curt nod before introducing Nora. "This is my wife, Nora."

Kevin's gaze flickered toward her, admiration flashing in his dark eyes. "Ah," he mused, taking in her regal posture and unreadable expression. "So, the rumors were true. Lucas Blackwood finally settled down."

"Settled?" Anthony scoffed, his gaze lingering on Nora. "I wouldn't call marrying a goddess 'settling.'"

Nora inclined her head in polite acknowledgment but remained distant, unaffected by their words. She had long since learned how to navigate conversations where she was the object of attention-acknowledge, deflect, and move on.

Lucas, sensing the way their gazes lingered a little too long, clenched his jaw. An unfamiliar irritation simmered beneath the surface, an urge to assert a claim he didn't even believe in.

Andrew Molten, a seasoned businessman and Lucas's closest confidante, observed the scene in silence. He noticed the way Lucas's shoulders tensed, the subtle shift in his demeanor. A smirk played at the corner of Andrew's lips.

"Quite the sensation your wife is causing," he remarked, taking a slow sip of his drink. "I imagine you expected as much."

Lucas exhaled sharply. "She's just like every other woman here-driven by ambition and a desire for wealth and power."

Andrew arched a brow, his amusement fading into something more contemplative. "Is she?" he mused, his voice lower now, edged with something unreadable. "Or is she simply a woman who knows her own worth?"

Lucas didn't respond. He didn't have an answer.

Nora, feeling the suffocating weight of the evening pressing against her ribs, excused herself from the conversation. She needed air.

She navigated through the sea of guests with practiced ease, slipping away from the grand hall and onto a secluded balcony. The night stretched before her, the city lights twinkling like distant stars. The cool breeze brushed against her skin, carrying with it a sense of solitude she desperately craved.

She had always preferred the quiet.

"You always did like the silence," a voice murmured from behind.

She turned, her gaze meeting Andrew's. There was something in his expression-a knowing softness, a memory shared between them that neither had spoken of until now.

"I thought you'd be married by now," she said, her tone light but laced with something deeper.

Andrew chuckled, leaning against the balcony railing. "And I thought you'd be content to remain a healer in your little village."

The words hung between them, unspoken history woven into the spaces they left unsaid.

He remembered the first time he had seen her-not in the dazzling ballrooms of the elite, but in a small, forgotten town where his life had nearly ended. A reckless accident, a stray horse, and a young girl with emerald eyes who had saved him.

She had been different then. Or perhaps she had always been the same, and the world had simply demanded she change.

"You saved my life once," Andrew said quietly, his voice lacking its usual humor. "I never forgot that."

Nora's gaze flickered, surprise flashing across her features before she masked it. "I was only doing what I was meant to do."

"Maybe," Andrew murmured, watching her closely. "But I never thanked you properly."

Nora offered him a small, almost wistful smile. "You don't have to."

The moment stretched, delicate and fragile, as if acknowledging it too much would shatter it.

Then, as if sensing the weight of their conversation, Andrew exhaled and shifted his posture. "Does Lucas know?" he asked casually.

Nora shook her head. "It wouldn't matter if he did."

Andrew studied her for a long moment. "You're wrong," he said finally.

Nora didn't reply.

Because deep down, she wasn't entirely sure if he was.

Inside, the party continued, the world spinning in its endless cycle of power, wealth, and whispered secrets. But on that balcony, beneath the vastness of the city skyline, Nora and Andrew stood in the fragile space between past and present.

A fleeting moment in a cage of gold.