Chapter 8

Vera shook her head, pushing away the intrusive thoughts. She turned on the faucet, running cold water over her wrists, letting the chill ground her.

“This is just a deal,” she muttered under her breath, as if saying it out loud would make it true.

The champagne stain on her dress was already setting in, a visual reminder of Sarah’s petty tactics. She reached for the paper towels, dabbing at the fabric in an attempt to clean herself up, but her hands stilled for a moment.

What if… what if it wasn’t just playing anymore?

No. She wouldn’t go down that road. She couldn’t afford to.

Sarah stormed out of the venue, her perfectly curated composure cracking with every step she took.

The night air was cool, but it did little to temper the heat of her frustration. Her nails dug into the palms of her hands as she replayed the conversation with Vera over and over again in her mind.

Vera had been so damn confident.

As if she truly believed Asher would keep choosing her.

As if Sarah was nothing more than an afterthought.

The thought sent a fresh wave of fury through her, her breaths coming out sharp as she reached her car. The valet scrambled to open the door for her, but she barely acknowledged him, sliding into the backseat with a sharp click of her heels.

“Drive,” she snapped at her driver, not caring where they went, just anywhere but here.

She had spent too much time carefully curating her image, positioning herself as the only woman fit for Asher Donovan.

She had molded herself into everything his family wanted, everything society expected. Yet here she was, pushed aside for someone who had stumbled into this world with no effort at all.

It wasn’t fair.

Her fingers tightened around her phone. Someone had to pay for this.

She wasn’t just going to sit back and watch as Vera took everything she had worked for.

A slow, calculated smirk spread across her lips as an idea formed in her mind. If Vera wanted to play this game, Sarah would make sure she lost.

Badly.

...............

Lucas exhaled sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose as Camilla stood before him, arms crossed, her gaze sharp with accusation. 

“You still want her.” Camilla’s voice was steady, but there was something brittle beneath it.

Lucas lifted his gaze to her, his jaw tightening. "That’s ridiculous."

Camilla let out a dry laugh, shaking her head. "Is it? Because I saw the way you looked at her tonight, Lucas. Don’t insult me by pretending otherwise."

He wanted to deny it, to say something, anything, that would put out the fire burning in her eyes. But the words wouldn’t come. Because she wasn’t wrong.

Camilla took a slow step forward, lowering her voice. "You chose me, Lucas. You made that decision. You don’t get to have regrets."

His hands clenched into fists at his sides. "I don’t..."

"Don’t lie to me." Camilla’s eyes flashed, her usual composure slipping. "You think I don’t know what my family is capable of? What they’d do to you if they even suspected you were still pining for her?" Her lips curled into something almost cruel. "Do you really want to test that?"

Lucas stiffened. He had never feared the Alden before, not truly. But standing there, staring into Camilla’s knowing gaze, he realized just how much power she held over him.

And how dangerously close she was to wielding it.

She leaned in, her voice barely above a whisper. "Whatever feelings you have left for Vera, bury them. Because if you don’t, I promise you… I will."

Lucas swallowed hard, watching as she turned on her heel and walked away, her posture as elegant as ever. But beneath that grace was steel. And Lucas knew, without a doubt, that Camilla was not a woman to cross.

As the door shut behind her, he ran a hand down his face, exhaling sharply.

For the first time since choosing Camilla, Lucas realized the full weight of his decision.

And it felt suffocating.

Lucas stood frozen in place long after Camilla had walked away, her words slicing through him like a blade sharpened by years of privilege and power. The tension in his shoulders refused to ease, and his fingers curled into fists as though trying to grip onto something solid, something real, in the midst of the storm raging inside him.

Vera.

Her name echoed in his mind like a haunting melody, a bittersweet reminder of what he had lost. Or, more accurately, what he had thrown away.

He hadn’t expected to see her tonight. Not like this. Not by Asher’s side, looking as though she belonged in a world she had once detested.

The Vera he remembered had been fire, untamed, unyielding, burning anyone who dared to get too close. But tonight, beneath the calculated indifference in her gaze, he had seen something else.

And it rattled him more than he cared to admit.

With a harsh exhale, Lucas loosened his bow tie and ran a hand through his hair.

The sound of laughter and clinking glasses from the banquet hall grated on his nerves, a cruel reminder that life moved forward, whether he was ready for it or not.

He turned sharply on his heel, needing air, needing space.

His feet carried him toward the balcony, away from the suffocating crowd and the weight of expectations pressing down on him.