Eliana King POV:
I didn't look back. The pain in my back was a dull throb, a constant reminder of the price of my freedom, but the cold, hard resolve in my heart propelled me forward. I stumbled out of the King manor, hailed a cab, and directed the driver to a private clinic I owned, discreetly, outside the city. It was a place where I could be anonymous, where the trauma of the King family couldn't reach.
The doctor, a stern, quiet woman, cleaned and stitched my wounds without question. I spent three days there, recovering physically, but mentally, I was already rebuilding. The Ice Queen was dead. Eliana King was reborn, forged in fire and betrayal.
On the fourth day, as I sat staring out the window, a burner phone I kept for emergencies buzzed. Garrett. My heart gave a strange, unwelcome lurch. I hesitated, then answered.
"Eliana," his voice was tight, almost clipped. "There's a gala tonight. The Wolf Industries annual charity event. You need to be there."
"Why?" I asked, my voice flat. "We're divorcing. I have no obligation to your family's social calendar."
A beat of silence. "Because I need you there. It's crucial for my image, and for the merger. Just... be there. Don't make a scene." He anticipated my refusal. "Don't play games, Eliana. This is important."
I closed my eyes, a ghost of a bitter smile touching my lips. Important for you, Garrett. Always for you. "Fine," I finally said, the word dripping with ice. "But don't expect me to play the doting wife."
"Just be yourself," he said, and for a fleeting moment, his voice held a hint of the old, exasperated Garrett. But it was quickly gone. "See you there." He hung up before I could respond.
I stared at the phone. My "self" was a dangerous thing now. What did he expect? The dutiful, cold CEO? Or the shattered woman he had left behind? A plan, cold and precise, began to form in my mind.
The gala was held in the city' s most exclusive rooftop ballroom. Crystal chandeliers glittered, champagne flutes chimed, and the air hummed with hushed conversations of power and influence. I walked in, wearing a custom-made black silk gown that clung to my body like a second skin, its simplicity screaming understated luxury. My hair was pulled back, my make-up minimal but sharp. Heads turned. Whispers followed. But I moved through the opulent space as if I were invisible, my gaze fixed on nothing in particular.
Then, he was there. Garrett, dressed in a perfectly tailored tuxedo, looking every inch the rebellious heir, yet with a forced composure I recognized. He moved through the crowd, greeting people, his smile polite but strained. He spotted me, and his eyes, usually so expressive, narrowed. He walked towards me, his gaze sweeping over my dress, my composure.
"You look..." he began, his voice low. "Different. And those aren't the King family diamonds."
"No," I replied, my voice steady. "They're mine. I bought them myself." I met his gaze, letting a hint of challenge enter my eyes.
He studied me for a long moment. "Still pushing boundaries, I see." He sighed, a faint weariness in his eyes. "You know, Eliana, I always admired your strength. Your ability to withstand anything. I tried to push you, to make you feel. Because I wanted you to be happy, even if you couldn't see it." His words were a mirror of my own twisted past, a cruel echo of the justifications I had once used.
A bitter laugh escaped my lips. "Happy? You wanted me to be happy, Garrett? After everything?" I leaned closer, my voice dropping. "Or were you just trying to mold me into something more palatable, something less threatening to your carefully constructed little world? Like a new art piece to fit your aesthetic?" I smiled, a tight, cold curve of my lips. "Don't flatter yourself. I'm not a lump of clay for you to reshape. I am Eliana King. And I'm quite content with my own company."
His eyes held mine, searching. I saw a flicker of confusion, then something that looked like hurt. But I dismissed it. It was his game, not mine.
"About the divorce," he said, abruptly changing the subject. "Are you really going through with it? Or is this another one of your tantrums because I left you in the car the other night?"
The casual cruelty of his words hit me like a physical blow. My heart, still fragile, clenched. The humiliation flooded back, sharp and potent. He had seen my pain, my anger, that night, and dismissed it as a childish fit.
"A tantrum?" I scoffed, my voice laced with venom. "You think I'd destroy my family's merger, endure public humiliation, and sever ties with everyone I know, just because you abandoned me after a kiss?" My laugh was scornful. "You truly have a high opinion of yourself, Garrett."
He didn't flinch. He just watched me, his eyes now holding a strange, knowing glint. "Don't you?"
The question hung in the air, a silent accusation. My carefully constructed composure wavered. He thought I was still in love with him. He thought my anger was born of a spurned lover's rage. He knew I had feelings for him, even if I hadn't admitted them to myself. He had always been too sharp, too perceptive. The thought sent a fresh wave of humiliation through me.
My face burned. I wanted to scream, to lash out, to deny. But before I could, his gaze shifted. His eyes, fixed on something behind me, narrowed, a dark cloud settling over his face.
I followed his line of sight. Across the ballroom, near a velvet rope, stood Aden. Not alone, but with a stunning blonde woman, her hand resting intimately on his arm. They were laughing, their heads close together.
Garrett' s entire demeanor changed. The casual ease, the forced politeness-it evaporated. His jaw tightened, and his shoulders squared. A low rumble escaped his throat, a primal sound of possessiveness. He crushed the champagne flute in his hand, the crystal shattering with a sharp clink. Blood bloomed on his palm, but he didn't even notice. His eyes, now scarlet with a wild, untamed fury, were glued to Aden and the woman.
He was losing control. The Ice Queen in me recognized the danger, the chaos. But the woman I was becoming felt something else. A flicker of triumph. He might not have wanted me, but he was burning with a jealousy I now understood.
He dropped the shattered glass, his hand clenched, dripping blood onto the white marble floor. He didn't say a word, didn't even look at me. He just grabbed my wrist, his grip like iron, and pulled me through the stunned crowd.
"Garrett! What are you doing?" I hissed, struggling against his grip. "Let go of me! You're bleeding!"
He ignored me, his face grim, his eyes still fixed on Aden. He dragged me towards the exit, his pace relentless. He was a force of nature, untamed and unstoppable. He slammed me against a cold, ornate railing outside the ballroom, his eyes blazing, scarlet and uncontrollable.
"Are you insane?" I gasped, my wrist aching, my heart pounding. "What is wrong with you?"
He didn't answer. His eyes, wide and bloodshot, were fixed on me, but they saw something else, someone else. He leaned in, his breath ragged, smelling of champagne and fury. He was no longer seeing Eliana King, the CEO. He was seeing the woman who was holding him back from what he truly wanted. And then, without a word, he slammed his lips onto mine.
