Chapter 4

Maya's POV 

The room buzzed with murmurs as Fiona stumbled through her explanation. From the corner of my eye, I saw my parents exchanging worried glances. My mother's perfectly manicured nails dug into my father's arm as she whispered urgently in his ear. A moment later, they were at my side. 

"Maya," my father hissed, his breath hot against my ear. "Get up there and help her. Now." 

I shook my head, a small act of defiance that sent a thrill through me. "No. This is her moment, isn't it? Let her handle it." 

My mother's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Don't be stupid, girl. Do you want your precious adoptive mother to suffer?"

My blood ran cold. "What are you talking about?"

"It would be such a shame if we couldn't afford her medical bills anymore," my father said, his voice dripping with false concern. "After all, quality care is so expensive these days."

The threat hung in the air between us, as tangible as the pearls around my mother's neck. I swallowed hard, memories of my adoptive mother flooding my mind. She was the one who had loved me unconditionally, who had dried my tears and soothed my nightmares during those twenty years I was lost to my birth family. Even now, with her health failing, she was the only one who truly saw me, who made me feel like I belonged somewhere.

The thought of her suffering, of losing the care she desperately needed, made my chest tighten with panic. I could endure anything - the neglect, the emotional abuse, the constant comparisons to Fiona - but I couldn't bear the thought of my adoptive mother paying the price for my defiance.

"You wouldn't," I whispered, but I knew they would. They'd proven time and again that they'd do anything to control me, to keep me in line.

"Try us," my mother sneered.

With heavy feet, I made my way to the stage. Fiona's eyes lit up with relief as I approached, though I could see the questions swirling behind them. I took the microphone from her trembling hands, forcing a smile for the crowd.

"Good evening, everyone," I began, my voice steadier than I felt. "Allow me to elaborate on the creative process behind this piece." 

As I spoke, weaving the tale of inspiration and craftsmanship that had gone into the necklace, I found myself drawn to a pair of eyes in the crowd. They belonged to the man who had asked the question - and what eyes they were. A deep, stormy gray that seemed to see right through me. 

He was handsome in a way that caught you off guard - not the polished, artificial beauty of the society men around him, but something rawer, more genuine. His jawline was strong, with just a

hint of stubble that spoke of a long day. A lock of dark hair fell across his forehead, and I had to resist the urge to brush it back. 

As I finished my explanation, his lips curved into a smile that made my heart skip a beat. He raised his hand, and I found myself hoping he had another question. 

"That was fascinating," he said, his voice rich and warm. "But who are you, and how do you know so much about this piece?" 

For a moment, I was stunned by his genuine interest, so different from the dismissive attitudes I was used to. A part of me yearned to tell him everything.

But reality crashed back in an instant. I thought of the threats hanging over my head, of the consequences that would rain down if I spoke out. The words died in my throat.

"I am-" I started, my voice barely a whisper, more habit than intention.

Suddenly, the microphone in my hand went dead. I tapped it, confused, but before I could say anything more, Daniel was there, smoothly taking control. 

"Thank you, Maya," he said, his tone pleasant but his eyes flashing a warning. "That will be all." 

He all but pushed me off the stage, his grip on my arm just shy of painful. As soon as we were out of sight of the crowd, he rounded on me. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

I yanked my arm free, rubbing the spot where his fingers had dug in. "Saving your precious Fiona's ass, apparently."

Daniel's nostrils flared. He leaned in close, his voice low and cold. "You're nothing without me, Maya. Remember that."

Before I could respond, one of the event coordinators called him over. Daniel's face transformed instantly, a charming smile replacing his scowl. He turned to the coordinator, all warmth and charisma. "Coming right over!"

He didn't spare me another glance as he walked away, dismissing me as easily as swatting a fly.

I needed air. The walls of the ballroom seemed to be closing in on me, the chatter of the guests becoming a deafening roar. I slipped out onto a balcony, the cool night air a balm on my flushed skin.

"Quite a performance in there." 

I spun around to find the handsome stranger from earlier leaning against the balcony railing, a glass of champagne dangling from his fingers. Up close, he was even more striking. The moonlight caught the silver at his temples, and laugh lines crinkled at the corners of his eyes. 

"I'm Alex, by the way," he said, extending his hand. "Alex Thorne." 

I took it, hoping he couldn't feel the tremor in my fingers. "Maya." 

"Well, Maya," he said, his eyes twinkling, "you certainly know your stuff when it comes to jewelry design. I'm impressed." 

I felt a blush creeping up my neck. "Thank you. I've always been fascinated by it."

Alex's gaze dropped to my neck, where a simple pendant hung. It was nothing compared to the elaborate piece Fiona was wearing inside, but the way he looked at it made me feel like I was wearing the Crown Jewels. 

"That's a beautiful piece," he said softly. "May I?" 

I nodded, and he leaned in closer. I could smell his cologne - something woodsy and warm. His fingers brushed my collarbone as he examined the pendant, sending a shiver down my spine. 

"This is exquisite work," he murmured. "Where did you get it?" 

"I've had it since I was a child," I said, my hand instinctively reaching up to touch it. Our fingers brushed, and I quickly pulled away. "It's... it's always been with me." 

Alex opened his mouth to say something more, but a familiar voice cut through the moment like a knife. 

"There you are, darling." 

Daniel strode onto the balcony, his face a mask of congenial charm. He wrapped an arm around my waist, pulling me close in a gesture that looked loving but felt possessive. 

"Mr. Thorne," he said, nodding at Alex. "I see you've met my wife. I hope she hasn't been boring you with her little hobby." 

Alex's eyebrows rose slightly, but his smile remained in place. "Not at all. In fact, I find her insights fascinating." 

A slight frown creased Alex's brow as he looked between us. "Your wife, did you say?" 

Daniel's arm tightened around me, his voice taking on a harder edge. "Yes, my wife. Is there a problem with that, Mr. Thorne?" 

Alex's smile turned casual, almost playful, but his eyes remained sharp. "No problem at all. I just... might have thought differently." 

The tension in the air was so palpable. I could feel Daniel's body stiffen beside me, his jaw clenching. Alex maintained his relaxed posture, but there was a glint in his eye that suggested he knew exactly what he was doing. 

***