Luelle
Luelle held her champagne flute loosely, her expression serene as the group around her chattered about trade agreements and Dominion alliances. Every so often, she nodded or murmured an acknowledgment, the picture of polite engagement. But her mind was miles away, circling the same question over and over again. Did he really not recognize me?
Her father's composed face floated in her thoughts, their brief, professional interaction gnawing at her. The politeness in his handshake, the distant courtesy in his voice—it all pointed to one thing. He hadn't recognized her. But how could that be? Not even two months ago, he had connected the dots when he'd seen the grainy surveillance footage from the bar. She hadn't been flawless then—her disguise had been good, but not perfect. It had been a spur-of-the-moment choice to intervene for Ethan's sake, and she had expected her father to see through it. Somehow, he had.
So why now, when she stood before him as the immaculate Elena King, had he seen nothing? Maybe the setting had thrown him off, or maybe the presence of another identity distracted him from the echoes of familiarity. The thought made her chest tighten. For years, she had lived in shadows, carefully crafting personas to shield her true self. Perhaps she had done her job too well.
Her gaze darted to Ethan across the room, moving easily among the crowd. He was the center of attention, yet at the same time, he seemed oddly apart from it. She'd watched him give every woman present just enough attention, ensuring no one felt slighted, but offering no sign of favoritism. It was as if he knew the Dominion's eyes were on him, waiting for him to make his move.
Have you decided, Ethan? she wondered again, though the answer eluded her. She could read almost anyone, but Ethan was the exception. He had always been that way.
Her musings were broken by a sudden, undeniable awareness. It wasn't the sound of footsteps or a presence announced by words. It was something deeper—a pull, an instinct, an ache she had learned not to ignore. Before she could fully process it, she felt the warmth of an arm sliding around her waist.
She stiffened, her breath catching, and turned her head. Ethan was there, his dark eyes meeting hers with an intensity that sent her thoughts reeling. There was something unspoken in his gaze, something that made her chest tighten further. Recognition. And yet, not just that—something more, something deeper than a simple connection of faces and names.
"Here you are, my love," he said, his voice low and smooth, meant only for her ears but loud enough to draw attention from those nearby.
Her heart raced, her mind grasping for the right response as the room seemed to shrink around them. She opened her mouth to speak, but the words faltered. Ethan's eyes held hers, a faint challenge flickering in their depths, daring her to deny him.
And then he said the words that shook the entire ballroom. "Come," he continued, his tone steady and commanding. "Let's announce our engagement."
The world tilted, the air suddenly heavy as the weight of his words settled on her. Around them, the low hum of conversation stopped, replaced by sharp intakes of breath and the beginnings of hushed whispers. Every eye turned toward them, the ripple of shock spreading like wildfire.
Luelle tried to steady herself, her thoughts a chaotic swirl of confusion, disbelief, and something she couldn't quite name. Why had he said that? Why now? Did he truly recognize her, or was this part of some larger strategy she didn't understand?
Ethan's arm remained firm around her waist, his composure unshaken. He began to guide her forward, his steps confident, his grip gentle but unyielding. She could feel the eyes of the room on them, the weight of their expectations, but it was Ethan's gaze that anchored her. His intensity pinned her in place, daring her to find the balance between truth and illusion.
And as the whispers grew louder, Luelle felt the boundaries of her carefully constructed world begin to shift in a way she hadn't anticipated.
Ethan
Ethan's words cut through the hum of the ballroom like a blade.
"Come," he said, his voice calm and deliberate, "let's announce our engagement."
The effect was instantaneous. The lively murmur of conversation faltered, glasses froze midair, and heads turned, their expressions painted with shock and intrigue. Whispers ignited almost immediately, crackling through the crowd like wildfire, as the Dominion's elite tried to make sense of what they had just heard.
But Ethan wasn't focused on them. His attention was solely on her.
Elena King.
She didn't flinch outright, but he felt the faintest tension ripple through her—subtle, nearly imperceptible, but there. Her body stiffened ever so slightly against the pressure of his hand resting lightly at her waist. She tried to mask it, but Ethan could see the hesitation, the way her mind worked to pull herself back into composure.
She wasn't ready for this.
She'd appeared flawless when he spotted her earlier, seamlessly blending into the Dominion's world of power and politics. The enigma of Elena King had commanded attention from the moment she arrived. But now, under his scrutiny, she wasn't nearly as composed as she wanted the world to believe.
Ethan let his smirk curl faintly. His instincts hadn't failed him. From the moment he'd seen her tonight, standing with Rowan, his suspicion had flared. There was something about her—not just familiarity but something deeper, more nagging. She was the woman from the bar, of that he was certain. The sleek black hair, the effortless confidence, the cool demeanor—it had all been burned into his memory.
But that night, she had disappeared too easily. The security footage should have caught her leaving after she'd taken him home, but it hadn't. It was as though she had known precisely how to avoid being seen. And now, here she was—an elusive figure standing in the Dominion's spotlight, carrying a name that radiated influence.
The mystery gnawed at him. Who was she, really? Why was she here? What was she hiding?
Her voice, quiet and steady, snapped him back to the moment.
"What are you doing?" she murmured, so soft only he could hear.
Her tone wasn't angry or sharp. It wasn't even defiant.
It was uncertain.
Ethan shifted slightly, glancing down at her with that same faint smirk that had disarmed countless others. "Keeping an eye on you," he replied, his voice just as quiet.
He caught her reaction—a sharp intake of breath, controlled but present. She understood. He wasn't letting her slip away this time.
Elena straightened subtly, reclaiming her composure in what he assumed was a move of defiance. She adjusted her hold on the champagne flute, and when she spoke again, her words carried the kind of elegance and ease she had perfected.
"That's quite the announcement, Ethan," she said, tilting her head slightly. "Are you sure this isn't for spectacle?"
Her tone was light, almost teasing, but Ethan could feel the edge beneath it.
He let out a low chuckle, deliberately letting the sound carry just far enough to stir the room. "I never do things for spectacle," he said easily. "And I don't make empty promises."
Her eyes locked with his, and in that moment, he saw the flicker of resistance give way to something else—acceptance. Not of the moment, perhaps, but of the game they were playing.
She wasn't going to fight him. Not here. Not now.
Instead, she laughed softly, her chin tilting as if to embrace the shift in attention. "Then I suppose we should make it official."
Her response was flawless. Polished. Convincing.
But Ethan didn't trust it for a second.
He guided her forward, leading her toward the center of the ballroom where every pair of eyes followed their every move. Elena matched his steps, her grace unbroken, her expression calm. She played the part of an impeccable partner, seamlessly falling into step with him.
And yet, Ethan could still feel it—the tension in her shoulders, the slight hesitation that betrayed her unease.
He had thrown her into the spotlight, tied her to him in front of the Dominion's elite, and ensured that she couldn't vanish into the shadows again. Whatever secrets Elena King carried, whatever she was hiding—he would uncover them.
This time, she wasn't going anywhere.