Chapter 313

Vivienne

It’s like it’s just the two of us in this room, the way she looks at me.

The crowd fades. The music dims. The glittering chandeliers and designer gowns and important people all blur into background static. There’s only her. Those dark eyes, fixed on me like I’m the only person in existence.

I look away first. I have to. If I don’t, I’ll do something stupid—walk to her, touch her, claim her in front of everyone.

I keep walking.

But our eyes meet again.

Across the ballroom, through a sea of bodies, through the careful distance we’re supposed to maintain,our gazes lock. And for one suspended moment, the world disappears.

She’s leaning against a pillar near the garden doors, one hand holding a champagne flute, the other resting casually at her side. But there’s nothing casual about the way she’s looking at me. It’s focused. Intent. Hungry.

My breath catches.

I should look away. I need to look away.

I can’t.

She knows it too. I see the faint curve of her lips—that private smile, the one meant only for me. The one that says I see you. I want you. I’m counting the minutes until we’re alone.

A waiter passes between us, breaking the spell.

I exhale, shaky, and realize my hands are trembling.

***

Elliot

I clench my fingers.

No one else seems to have seen it, but I have.

The way Daphne’s eyes follow her across the room like she’s the only person who exists.

How shameless.

Seducing Daphne when she’s Damien’s fiancée. The twin brother. His sister. His family.

What kind of woman does that? What kind of omega throws herself at her fiancé’s sibling right under everyone’s noses?

I think of Daphne. The way she looked at me in the cafe. The way she smiled. The way she saw me.

My vision tunnels. My blood boils.

I can’t handle this.

I walk toward her.

She’s moving through the crowd, heading in Daphne’s direction—I can see the path, can see the way her eyes keep drifting to where Daphne stands near the garden doors. She’s going to her. Right now. In front of everyone.

I intercept her.

"Lady Vivienne, right?" I step into her path, blocking her way.

She stops, looking at me. Annoyance flashes across her face,quickly masked, but I see it. Good. Let her be annoyed.

"Indeed." Her voice is cool, polished. "And you are?"

She knows. Of course she knows.But I play along.

"I came here as Dr. Wang’s companion." I smile, sweet and innocent, the way I’ve learned to do. The way that disarms people.

"But I’m acquainted with the mayor. He speaks of you often."

"Does he?" Her tone is flat. "How lovely."

"He does." I step closer, lowering my voice conspiratorially. "He talks about the wedding planning. The campaign events. How lucky he is to have such a capable fiancée."

She doesn’t react. Just watches me with those cool blue eyes, waiting.

I hate her.

"How lucky I am, that my fiancé speaks of me to his acquaintances," I say dryly, letting the sarcasm drip from every word.

Something flickers in her expression—amusement? Irritation? It’s gone before I can read it.

"Well, if you’ll excuse me." She moves to step around me.

"I hate omegas like you."

She freezes.

Slowly, deliberately, she turns back to face me. Those blue eyes are cold now, hard as ice.

"Pardon me?"

"You heard me." I step closer, lowering my voice so only she can hear.

"You’re born into a wealthy family. Beautiful. Have a good partner. Everything handed to you on a silver platter. Yet still greedy for more."

Her jaw tightens. "You don’t know anything about me."

"I know enough." I gesture vaguely toward where Daphne stands, still visible through the crowd.

"I know you’re engaged to one Han while chasing after the other. I know you’re playing games with people’s lives,her life—because you’re bored with your perfect little existence."

She stares at me. For a long, horrible moment, I think she might slap me.

Instead, she laughs.

It’s not a nice laugh. It’s sharp and knowing and cuts right through my carefully constructed anger.

"Aren’t you too greedy?" she asks, tilting her head. "You already have enough Alphas.And now you want another?"

"That has nothing to do with it." The words come out defensive, weaker than I intended.

"Please." She steps closer, and somehow she’s taller than I remember, more commanding.

"I recognize that look in your eyes."

I clench my fists.

Vivienne stands before me, calm and composed, utterly unafraid. As if I’m not a threat. As if I couldn’t destroy her with a few well-placed whispers.

"Don’t bite more than you can chew," she says, and something in her tone makes my blood boil.

She thinks she’s above me. Thinks she’s better. Thinks she deserves Daphne while I’m just some desperate omega grasping at scraps.

I reach for her hand—I don’t even know why. To steady myself? To threaten? To touch something that’s hers?

She snatches it away.

Fast. Instinctive. Like I’m something disgusting.

And I let myself fall.

The floor is cold against my back. The chandeliers spin overhead. Gasps ripple through the crowd like waves.

"—did you see that?"

"—the mayor’s fiancée just pushed him—"

"—poor thing, he’s just lying there—"

I arrange my face into something pitiful. Confused. Hurt. My eyes find Vivienne’s as she stares down at me, frozen, her expression shifting from shock to horror to understanding.

She knows what I did.

She knows.

And there’s nothing she can do about it.

The crowd gasps.

Whispers start immediately, spreading like fire through dry grass.

"—did you see that?"

"—the mayor’s fiancée just—"

"—poor thing, he’s just lying there—"

I let my lip tremble slightly. Let my eyes go wide and wet. Let my body curl just a little, making myself smaller, more pitiful.

If she has her background as a weapon—wealth, family name, political connections—I have my looks as my weapon.

And mine is sharper.