Chapter Six- Society's Scrutiny

(Helena’s POV)

There are three universal truths about high society that you should know. One, No one ever truly cares about charity galas. It’s just an excuse for powerful men to stroke their egos and for their wives to wear gowns they’ve been dying to show off. Two, The second you show weakness, they will eat you alive, and they do it with a smile and a glass of champagne, and three, I am the main course tonight.

The car slowed as we neared the Grand Bellemont Hotel, where cameras flashed like a firing squad waiting for the kill.

I exhaled, fingers clenching around my clutch. "This is a mistake."

Adrian didn’t look up, still adjusting his cufflinks with calm, deliberate movements. Like he wasn’t about to walk us into a lion’s den.

"It’s only a mistake if you make it one," he said smoothly.

I turned to him, irritation curling in my stomach. "And what exactly does that mean?"

"It means," he bellowed, "that whatever they say, however they look at you, it only matters if you let it."

I scoffed. "Right. Because that’s so easy when half this room thinks I sold myself to you."

Adrian’s expression didn’t change. "They think what you want them to think."

I blinked. "Excuse me?"

"You act like public opinion is out of your control," he said, tilting his head slightly. "It’s not."

I let out a humorless laugh. "Right. So I should just what? Pretend they’re not whispering about how pathetic I am?"

His gaze flickered over me, slow, assessing. "Pathetic isn’t the word I’d use."

Something in the way he said it made my stomach tighten.

I shook my head. "This is a joke to you, isn’t it?"

"Hardly."

I turned toward the window, pulse hammering. "I'm not ready to come out to society yet."

He was silent for a moment. Then, his voice dropped into something quiet but firm. "Then you'll be making your own life harder. Not mine."

I clenched my jaw. "Of course. Because it always comes back to control with you."

Adrian sighed, finally leaning back against the seat. "No, Helena. It comes back to choice. You’re the one who came to me, remember? And I offered a solution"

I snapped my head toward him. "Are you seriously throwing that in my face?"

He didn’t flinch. "No. I’m reminding you that you chose this, just like I did. So if you want to punish someone, start with yourself."

A sharp, bitter laugh escaped me. "You’re unbelievable."

"I’ve been told."

I turned away, my heart pounding with frustration. "I hate you."

Adrian smirked slightly. "No, you don’t."

My nails dug into my palm, but before I could say something I’d regret, the car rolled to a stop.

Adrian pushed open the door and stepped out. And just like that, he turned, extending a hand.

I hesitated, for a moment, I considered leaving him standing there, making him look like a fool instead of me.

But the cameras were flickering and there were people.

And I couldn’t afford to be reckless.

So I took his hand.

His fingers tightened around mine, steady, firm—like he was reminding me that no matter how much I resisted, I was already his.

And then, just before he led me forward, he murmured under his breath—so quietly that only I could hear

"Smile, sweetheart. They’re dying to see if you’ll break. Don't give them the satisfaction"

My breath caught.

Then, with every ounce of control I had left, I lifted my chin and walked straight into the fire.

The cameras explode.

Adrian and I stepped into the grand hotel and I gasped in awe there were towering chandeliers. Waiters balancing trays of champagne and judgment. High ceilings and even higher egos.

Adrian led me through the crowd, his hand warm and steady against the small of my back. He moves with unwavering confidence, while I… attempt not to trip and make a fool out of myself.

A waiter passes, and Adrian plucks two glasses from the tray, handing me one.

"Drink," he murmurs, taking a slow sip of his own. "It helps."

I lift a brow. "Are you implying I need alcohol to endure this?"

His lips curve. "I’m implying I do."

Fair point.

I take a sip, just as Julian Mercer steps in front of us.

Julian Mercer was a politician’s son with a trust fund, a sharp tongue, and a talent for ruining reputations. The only times we crossed paths were at Daniel’s parties, where he lurked around with a drink in one hand and an insult in the other. Always too smug, too nosy, too eager to dig his claws into other people’s lives.

He didn’t just thrive on gossip, he created it. And tonight? I had no doubt I was his latest headline.

He’d been watching me all night, eyes gleaming with that particular brand of cruelty that only men born into power could perfect. Like he already knew how this story would end and he couldn’t wait to spread it.

“Adrian” Julian greets smoothly before his gaze flicks to me. His smirk widens. "And Helena. You look… different."

Julian’s lips curl into something that might pass for a smile if you didn’t know better. "Well, well, if it isn’t society’s favorite comeback story." His tone drips with faux warmth, like he’s just so thrilled to see me. "We were all beginning to wonder if you’d decided to retire from public life altogether."

I arched a brow, matching his fake politeness. "And miss out on all the charming company? Never."

His smirk widens. "Charming, indeed. Though, I have to say, Helena…" He leans in slightly, voice dipping into something sarcastic "Your sudden nuptials? Bit of a plot twist, don’t you think? One minute, you’re grieving. The next, you’re Mrs Cavendish, Really Makes a man wonder."

I tilt my head. "Wonder what?"

Julian gives a slow shrug, his gaze flicking briefly to Adrian before settling back on me. "Oh, you know. Adrian’s never been the… domesticated type. And you? Well." He gestures vaguely toward me, the condescension in his eyes sharp enough to cut. "You weren’t exactly his usual… crowd. You know, being a widow and all."

Ah. There it is.

The barely disguised insult wrapped in polite conversation.

I open my mouth, but before I can reply, Adrian’s voice cuts through.

"That’s funny, Julian," he muses, taking a sip of champagne. "You seem awfully concerned about my type when you’ve never been in it."

Julian stiffens, his smirk faltering for half a second before he recovers. "Touchy, are we?"

Adrian tilts his head slightly, like he’s considering something. Then, his voice drops into something low, smooth, and utterly dismissive.

"Not really. I just don’t take relationship advice from men whose longest commitment is a bottle of imported scotch."

Julian’s jaw tenses with a flicker of embarrassment, the telltale sign that Adrian’s words hit exactly where they were meant to.

I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling.

Adrian shifts his glass in his hand, completely at ease. "Now, if you’ll excuse us—" He glances at me, then back at Julian. "—my wife and I have better company to keep."

And just like that, he leads me away, leaving Julian standing there, drowning in his own wounded ego.Adrian takes a slow sip of champagne. Completely unfazed.

I bite my lip to keep from laughing.

The moment he’s gone, I turn to Adrian, one brow raised. "I think you just crushed his fragile ego."

Adrian hums, watching Julian disappear into the crowd. "He’ll survive."

I shake my head, a reluctant smile tugging at my lips. "You didn’t have to do that."

His gaze slides back to me, unreadable. “It's my duty, you're my wife, I'm not going to sit around and watch anyone bully you."

I swallow hard, suddenly too aware of the way his hand still rests against my back, the warmth of his fingers against my spine.

Stepping away, i clear my throat. "I need another drink."

Adrian watches me for a moment before handing me his.

I blink at the glass. "What….."

"Drink mine. I’ll get another."

I hesitate but take it. Our fingers brushing just for a second.

I pull away quickly. "Thanks," I mutter, downing half.

"Thirsty?" He echoed with a smirk

"For alcohol." I glared

He hums. "Shame. For a second, I thought being my wife was making you nervous."

I nearly choked on my drink before i replied. “ In your dreams.”

His smirk deepened. "Careful, sweetheart. People might start thinking you actually enjoy being married to me."

I scoff. "Yeah if it makes you feel better."

He leans in, voice smooth. "You have no idea."

And somewhere, across the room i could hear the whispers. I could tell they were staring.

Glancing around and I confirmed it with watchful eyes and forced smiles filled with quiet cruelty.

"Disgusting. Her husband’s barely cold."

"No shame at all. Straight from mourning to his bed."

"She probably planned this."

My nails bit into my palm.

Adrian’s voice dropped low. "Ignore them."

I exhaled slowly lying through my teeth. "I’m fine."

Adrian hums, unconvinced. "They’re waiting for a reaction," he says, lifting his glass to his lips. "Don’t give them one."

I roll my eyes. "You say that like you don’t enjoy making a scene."

He smirks. "Only when it’s entertaining."

"Is that why you married me?"

His gaze darkens something unreadable flickering in his expression.

I hold my breath.

He leans in, his voice a soft murmur against my ear. "No, Helena. I married you because I always get what I want."

My heart stops.

And for the first time tonight, I realize

He isn’t lying.