The engagement celebration continued into the evening. The garden was filled with the glow of fairy lights and the hum of conversation, laughter spilling like champagne. People toasted to love, to future happiness, to the promise of eternity.
Sia sat beside Adams at the head table, her hands folded neatly in her lap, her posture elegant. She played her part beautifully, the gentle bride to be, the devoted partner. Her smile was warm enough to charm, soft enough to lower suspicion, and distant enough to hide everything.
Adams did not notice, of course.
He was too busy basking in congratulations, accepting handshakes, slaps on his back, and compliments on what a good woman he had found.
As if she were a prize he somehow earned.
Nicole hovered nearby, laughing too loudly, drinking too quickly, and touching Adams' arm a moment too long every time she leaned in. No one noticed it. Because no one wanted to.
Sia watched them, calm and still.
She did not need to rush.
Revenge, if done correctly, was art, not violence.
While Adams bragged about how he would become a successful businessman soon, Sia lifted her champagne glass and took a slow sip. The bubbles fizzed at her lips, sweet and cold, almost playful, a sharp contrast to the quiet storm in her chest.
"So, you have agreed to marry him?" a lazy voice drawled from her left.
Sia did not react at first. She lowered her glass and turned her head slightly.
A man sat in the seat beside her, appearing as if he had been watching and waiting for the right moment.
He was striking. That was the first thing.
Tall, with a lean and effortless elegance. His suit was deep charcoal, tailored so perfectly it looked like it belonged to him more than his skin did. His hair was dark, his features sharp in a way that could be cruel, but softened by the faint, amused curve of his lips.
His eyes, dark and intelligent, watched her with the kind of interest a predator gives a creature he has never seen before.
Not hunger.
Recognition.
As if he saw something in her that others could not.
Sia met his gaze without blinking. "It seems I have."
"Mm." He leaned back into his chair, crossing one long leg over the other. "Congratulations, then."
The tone was pleasant.
The meaning was not.
Sia tilted her head. "You do not sound particularly convinced."
"Oh, I am convinced," he said lightly. "I am just wondering how long the performance will last."
Her grip on her glass remained steady. No flicker of expression. No change in breath.
But her heart paused for half a beat.
Who was he?
He smiled, slow, knowing, and dangerous.
"Relax," he murmured. "I am not here to ruin anything. I just enjoy watching people lie with perfect grace."
His words brushed her like a blade hidden in silk.
She answered with equal softness. "And I enjoy watching people notice what others overlook. It is rare."
His smile widened, just enough to show he was entertained.
"Leon Dalton," he introduced himself, offering a hand.
Ah.
So this was him.
In her past life, she had heard his name only in fragments. Whispered news articles, fleeting conversations, business rumors. A man who rose quickly, ruthlessly, mysteriously. A man who played with corporations like chess pieces. A man whose alliances were temporary and whose loyalty was rumored to belong to no one.
He was a storm disguised as a breeze.
Sia accepted his hand.
"Sia."
"Sia," he repeated slowly, tasting the name. "Pretty."
Nicole's voice cut through the moment.
"Sia." She rushed toward the table, smiling too brightly, her gaze flicking briefly and sharply to Leon. "You are not bothering her, are you?"
Leon did not even look at Nicole.
He continued watching Sia.
Which only made Nicole's smile tighten.
"Oh, do not worry." Sia's tone was gentle. "Mr. Dalton was just being polite."
Nicole's eyebrows twitched, the smallest crack in her expression.
"You know each other?" she asked.
"No," Sia answered.
"Yes," Leon said at the same time.
Nicole froze.
Leon finally turned his head, his eyes sweeping over Nicole like she was nothing more than background detail.
"We have met," he said smoothly. "Just now."
Nicole laughed, high and awkward. "Oh. Right. Well. Sia, Adams is looking for you."
Sia set her glass down and rose gracefully. "Then I should go."
But she paused.
Just for a moment.
And looked at Leon.
His eyes held hers, dark, steady, unreadable.
But there was no misunderstanding the message there:
I see you.
Not the mask.
Not the act.
You.
A small, controlled breath left her lips.
"Enjoy the party, Mr. Dalton."
He tilted his glass slightly. "You too, Miss Moore."
She walked away, not hurried, not shaken, not flustered.
But awakening.
Nicole followed quickly, grabbing her arm the moment they were out of view.
"Sia," she whispered urgently, "you should not talk to him. Leon Dalton is not someone people like us get involved with. He is dangerous. Arrogant. Manipulative. He ruins people. He-"
Sia turned her head slowly.
Her eyes were calm.
Too calm.
"Do not worry," she said softly. "I know exactly who I should be careful of."
Nicole smiled and nodded.
Sia smiled too, sweet and harmless.
And walked back into the celebration, into the arms of the man who would one day let her die.
But now, her pulse was steady.
Her steps were sure.
Her heart was made of iron and dawn.
Sia felt the world shifting.
Not back.
But forward.
