Chapter 9 Selena's POV

The fabric of my gown scratched against my skin like a reminder that I don't belong here. I stood beside Damien, his hand resting lightly on my lower back, the picture-perfect husband in a perfectly choreographed charade. We looked every bit like the newlywed couple: regal, composed, elegant. Smiling for cameras and posing for society. But every flash was a lie and every smile was a mask.

The gala was in full swing, a lavish affair hosted at the Montague Hotel ballroom. Crystal chandeliers cast golden light on sequined gowns and crisp tuxedos. Laughter echoed against marble walls. Waiters in white gloves moved like shadows, topping off glasses with vintage champagne.

I wanted to just disappear.

"Smile," Damien whispered under his breath, barely turning his head. "You're my wife. Pretend if you have to."

Pretend.

That was all I've been doing since the vows were said. Pretending to be a wife, pretending to feel anything but numb, pretending not to see the cracks in the walls of my own life.

I forced a smile, my teeth aching from the effort. A group of women approached, they were from some of the wealthy families I knew from childhood.

"Oh, Mrs. Delacroix," one of them purred. "You look positively radiant!"

It took me a second to realize they were talking to me. Mrs. Delacroix. The name didn't fit, it hung around my neck like a noose.

"Thank you," I said, my voice was as lifeless as my smile.

Damien was the perfect host, charming and attentive in public, always touching my arm and leaning in just so the world saw a man in love. His fingers might graze my skin, but they left no warmth behind.

He slept in the room across the hall. We exchanged only what words were necessary. Our marriage was a contract and a merger, nothing more.

I drifted away from the crowd, needing air.

The garden terrace was quieter. I leaned against the stone balustrade, inhaling the cool night air. Below, the lights of the city blurred into a soft glow, but inside me, everything was sharp.

Footsteps echoed behind me.

"Selena."

My body stiffened. I turned to see my mother, draped in emerald silk, concern creasing her brow.

"I've been trying to speak with you all evening," she said gently. "How are you holding up?"

The question twisted something inside me. I wanted to scream, ask her why. Why didn't she fight for me? Protect me?

"I'm fine," I said instead, voice tight.

She stepped closer. "I know this wasn't what you wanted, but-"

"But you let it happen," I said, meeting her eyes. "You both did."

She blinked, clearly startled by the venom in my tone. "We did what was best for our family. For your future."

"My future?" I laughed bitterly. "You mean the company's future. You cared about everything except me."

She looked away, her jaw tightening. "You'll come to understand with time. Sometimes we must sacrifice comfort for legacy."

I turned back to the city lights, unwilling to cry in front of her. I've shed enough tears in the dark, alone in a mansion that wasn't home.

Then something-someone-caught my eye.

Across the ballroom, through the open terrace doors, I saw him.

Tall, broad shoulders and dressed in black. His face was half in shadow, but unmistakable.

Luca.

My breath caught in my throat, my heart slammed against my ribs.

It couldn't be. It wasn't possible.

I blinked and looked again.

Gone.

He was gone.

I pushed off the railing, walking quickly back inside, eyes scanning the crowd. Damien was speaking to a senator across the room. Guests were dancing.

But he was here. I swear he was.

Unless...I imagined him.

With these past few weeks of stress and the weight of this marriage, I haven't let myself think about him. But the memory clung to me like a second skin. The way he touched me, spoke to me and looked at me.

My hands trembled as I reached for a glass of champagne from a passing waiter. I sipped, more to hide the shaking than anything else.

Am I going mad?

Is he really here?

My gaze swept the room again. No sign of him.

I didn't notice Damien approach until he was beside me, his voice low in my ear.

"Are you alright?"

I turned to him, my face a careful mask. " I Just needed some air."

He looked at me for a long moment. Something flickered in his eyes-suspicion? Curiosity? I couldn't tell.

He reached out and brushed something from my shoulder. "Don't wander off. People talk."

"Yes, husband," I replied, too tired to care if he heard the sarcasm.

He walked away, and I was left standing alone in the center of a crowded ballroom trying to figure out if I really saw Luca or I was hallucinating.

*****

(Luca's POV)

I stood in the corner of the grand Montague ballroom, disguised in a black tux, shadowed by dim lighting and a sea of unfamiliar faces. No one knew I was here-not my family, and certainly not Damien.

That was the point.

I didn't RSVP or announce my arrival. I slipped in like a ghost, just another man in a crowd of polished, pretentious socialites who clinked glasses and smiled with teeth too white and eyes too hollow.

I've planned this for weeks. To witness the beginning of my brother's so-called fairy-tale and then destroy it, piece by piece.

I've envisioned walking up to Damien with a smirk on my face, telling him in vivid detail how I'd spent a night tangled up with his bride. The woman he was parading around like a trophy.

That was the plan until I saw her.

Selena.

And everything inside me stilled.

She stood beside Damien like porcelain. Her dress shimmered under the lights, the fabric hugging her body in ways I remembered far too well. Her hair swept up, exposing the graceful curve of her neck, the very spot I'd kissed as she whispered my name in the dark.

My heart pounded harder than I wanted to admit.

She's beautiful but she doesn't look happy.

I watched them, my fingers curling around the edge of a tall cocktail table. From a distance, they were convincing. The power couple. His hand on her back, her poised smile. But there was distance in the way she stood, tension in her spine. Her smile didn't reach her eyes, neither did mine.

I hate seeing her next to him and I hate it even more that it hurts.

She was supposed to be a pawn. And yet that night has rooted itself inside me like a goddamn infection.

I downed the rest of my drink and let the burn anchor me.

I had every opportunity to storm up there and whisper the truth into his ear. To break the illusion in front of every smug bastard in that room and let the scandal erupt like wildfire.

But I hesitated because of her.

Selena was in the garden terrace just across the ballroom when she turned her head slightly, her gaze sweeping across the room and then, for a heartbeat, our eyes locked.

She froze.

So did I.

Her eyes widened slightly, just a flicker. Her lips parted, like she wasn't sure she could trust what she saw.

I stepped backward instinctively, deeper into the shadows. Out of her line of sight.

I could barely breathe. My chest ached from the pressure of something I didn't want to name.

She saw me and from the way she looked at me, there wasn't anger or betrayal but disbelief and longing. Like seeing a ghost from a past she wasn't ready to bury.

For a moment, I thought about stepping out again and letting her see me. I wanted to watch the chaos that would follow but I didn't because I realized that I wasn't angry at Damien anymore. I wasn't even focused on revenge in that moment. All I could think about was her and the fact that I was completely, irrevocably screwed.

She's my brother's wife. The leverage I could use to unravel him but all I wanted was to walk up to her, pull her out of that place, and tell her she didn't have to wear that mask anymore.

I leaned against the wall, one hand gripping the back of my neck. This wasn't supposed to happen.

I came to destroy my brother. To take from him the same way he took from me. But when I saw her again, I didn't feel victorious. I felt lost.

The sound of forced laughter and clinking glasses pulled me back. I stepped out onto a quieter side of the hall, needing a moment away from the performance.

I'm falling in love with her.

The thought was violent. Like a slap to my face.

I didn't want to believe it but it was there. I couldn't pretend anymore. Every plan I made, every night I laid awake thinking of ways to tear Damien apart, she was there.

I closed my eyes and saw the flicker of recognition on her face again and the intensity of her gaze. She probably missed me too but that doesn't change anything. She's married to Damien now and I'm just in the shadows.