Chapter 4 Cracks In The Glass

Maddox's POV

The second he stepped into the ballroom, Maddox felt his armor tighten.

He hated these events. The artificial warmth, the veiled threats disguised as compliments, and the constant flash of cameras that wanted to pin him down and dissect him. He'd spent years avoiding the spotlight for a reason.

And tonight, he'd chosen to walk straight into it.

Because she asked him to.

Emilia Hart.

He spotted her instantly.

Her black silk gown hugged her in all the right places, elegance and confidence wrapped in midnight. She didn't shrink in a room full of giants-she stood taller. And as his eyes found hers, something strange and sharp tugged in his chest.

She was beautiful.

But that wasn't what unnerved him.

It was the fact that she wasn't trying to impress him. Or seduce him. Or control him.

She was just... real.

And real was dangerous.

He kept his expression unreadable as he walked toward her.

The moment she slipped her hand into his arm, he felt the shift-something click into place. Like she'd always been meant to stand there beside him.

He hated the feeling.

They moved like a pair who'd done this a hundred times. She knew exactly when to lean in, when to smile, when to speak-and more importantly, when not to. He followed her lead because that was the deal.

But the longer the night went on, the harder it became to remember it was just a role.

Especially when she whispered things like:

"If you keep looking at me like that, they'll think we're in love."

And the terrifying thing was-

He was.

Or he could be.

Not now. Not yet. But something dangerous and impossible was blooming in the parts of him he'd sealed shut years ago.

And when she laughed, really laughed, the sound burrowed under his skin.

He wanted to hold onto it.

Trap it.

Name it.

Then Celeste appeared.

He felt Emilia stiffen the moment her perfume hit the air. He didn't have to turn to know who it was.

Celeste Carrington. The ghost that still lingered in every silent room he walked through.

Maddox had expected her to reappear eventually. She always did, when she wanted something. But tonight wasn't about her.

It was about Emilia.

And for the first time in three years, he realized he didn't care about Celeste's games.

He cared about the woman standing beside him. The one who didn't flinch when confronted. The one who stood her ground with grace and wit.

When Celeste called Emilia a rebound, he felt rage crawl into his throat-but Emilia handled it with such ease, he almost smiled.

"Both," she'd said. "Depending on the day."

Perfect delivery. No fear.

God, he wanted to know how she got that steel in her spine.

When he touched the small of her back and guided her away, it wasn't part of the act. Not anymore.

It was instinct.

Protection.

Possession.

And that terrified him more than anything Celeste could've said.

Outside, Emilia asked him if it was her. He didn't answer. He couldn't. He couldn't bring himself to say Celeste's name aloud-not when it threatened to unravel the fragile calm he'd kept all night.

But the look Emilia gave him just before she turned away?

That haunted him.

Because it didn't say, I'm angry.

It said, I see you. And I'm scared of what that means for me.

And for a man who had vowed never to feel again...

He realized, too late, that tonight wasn't about appearances.

It was about beginnings.

And Maddox King didn't know how to survive those anymore.