Chapter 1 - The Threshold of Spite
The granite steps of the De Ville estate were ruthless against Elena’s bare thighs. Night air bled through her silk gown, biting deeper than the arctic wind ever could. Up ahead, the grand gilded doors glowed with laughter, champagne clinking, and the perfumed scent of old money. Inside was Julian—her husband of four years—arm draped casually around Clara’s bare waist, a woman whose bloodline matched his pedigree. Julian had looked back only once before disappearing inside, murmuring that an orphan street flower like Elena would only humiliate him in front of the board.
Then came the footsteps. Heavy, deliberate, leather on cold marble.
Julian had called this estate his goal, but Julian was just a supplicant seeking funding. The man standing over Elena was the owner. Alexander De Ville looked down with eyes like chipped flint, his broad frame cutting off the chill of the breeze. When he offered his gloved hand, she hesitated, her knuckles white against her threadbare cashmere wrap.
""Your husband left you outside?"" His voice was gravel dipped in velvet.
""He said I'd embarrass him,"" she whispered, shivering so violently her teeth clicked.
""Nobody gets left in the cold at my house,"" Alexander murmured. He took her trembling hand, pulling her upright with effortless strength. Julian suddenly reappeared at the entrance, his smug grin melting into sheer panic. ""Elena? Mr. De Ville... what is this?""
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Alexander didn't flinch. His hand slid firmly to the curve of Elena's waist, anchoring her against his broad chest. ""She is entering as my guest of honor.""
Julian stammered, stepping down, but Alexander’s security stepped forward, blocking his path. Inside, the ballroom fell dead silent as the double doors parted fully, revealing Elena beside the untouchable sovereign of high finance. But as Alexander leaned down, his warm breath brushed her ear: ""Play your part, little bird. Because once we step inside, your life as you know it is over.""
