It was 9:15 pm in Stockholm, Sweden.
"Ready to make an entrance?" Chris whispered, his hand resting lightly on Lily's lower back.
Lily's heart raced as she stood at the threshold of the opulent ballroom. The glittering chandeliers cast a warm glow over the sea of elegantly dressed elites mingling within, speaking business. She hesitated, feeling out of place despite her designer gown and flawless makeup.
Taking a deep breath, Lily stepped into the room beside Chris. To her surprise, heads turned. Conversations paused. Eyes lingered. A thrill coursed through her veins as she realized she was the center of attention.
For years, Lily had blended into the background, as an ugly-duckling wallflower at every event. But now, whispers followed in her wake. Admiring glances from both men and women sent a rush of excitement through her.
'It worked,' she thought, a small smile playing on her lips. The plastic surgery, the pain, the sacrifices – they had all been worth it. Even if it meant being indebted to the walking temptation of a man beside her.
As Lily and Chris navigated through the crowd, her newfound confidence blossomed. She stood taller, her steps more assured. For the first time, she felt like she truly belonged in this world of wealth and power.
Scanning the room, Lily recognized several familiar faces from past business summits she'd attended with her father. Back then, she'd been the ugly duckling, barely noticed and rarely respected. How different things were now.
Chris squeezed her hand before drifting away to mingle with two men in sharp black suits. Lily barely had time to feel abandoned before two stunning women approached her.
"Have I seen you before?" asked one, a statuesque blonde with piercing green eyes and a designer dress that probably cost more than some cars.
Lily's heart raced. She recognized the woman as Vivian Hawthorne, heiress to a tech empire. They'd met briefly at a charity gala last year, but Vivian had looked right through her then.
"I don't think so," Lily lied smoothly, plastering on a charming smile. "I'm new to these events. I'm... Elise." The fake name rolled off her tongue easily. She couldn't risk being recognized - if word got back to her parents about this secret marriage, she'd be in deep trouble.
Vivian and her companion exchanged glances before breaking into dazzling smiles. "Well, Elise," Vivian purred, "you simply must join us. The girls are dying to meet you."
Before Lily could respond, she was whisked away to a circle of glamorous women, all designer dresses and glittering jewelry. They welcomed her warmly, peppering her with questions about her background and compliments on her appearance.
As the champagne flowed, so did the gossip. The women giggled about their affairs, shared scandalous secrets, and traded barbs about mutual acquaintances. Lily found herself swept up in their world, feeling a heady mix of excitement and belonging.
This, she realized, was what it felt like to have a gang. All her life, she'd been on the outside looking in, with only her loyal friend Jude for company. Now, she was part of the in-crowd of the elite and privileged—accepted and admired.
The realization hit her like a punch to the gut: society truly did value looks and grandeur above intelligence and inner beauty. The same people who had ignored or dismissed her before now hung on her every word, simply because she looked like one of them.
It was intoxicating and unsettling all at once. As Lily laughed at another joke, her eyes instinctively sought out Chris across the room.
What she saw made her breath catch. Chris stood at the center of a group of men, his posture relaxed yet commanding. He exuded an aura of quiet power that seemed to draw others to him like moths to a flame. The suited men around him hung on his every word, nodding eagerly and laughing at his quips.
A pang of jealousy shot through Lily's chest. Chris was so natural in this world of power and privilege. He didn't just fit in; he dominated. His handsome features were animated as he spoke, his charm evident even from across the room. People gravitated towards him, instantly respecting his presence.
Lily felt a bitter taste in her mouth. If only she had even a fraction of his confidence, his ease in navigating this glittering world. She'd spent years trying to belong, and here Chris was, effortlessly commanding the room.
She sighed, turning back to her new "friends" with a forced smile. As she nodded along to their chatter, Lily couldn't shake the image of Chris from her mind. He was everything she'd ever wanted to be – poised, respected, admired.
The jealousy twisted in her gut, mingling with an unwelcome attraction. Chris wasn't just her contract husband anymore. He was a force to be reckoned with, a man of power and influence. And despite herself, Lily found that utterly captivating.
Pushing those thoughts aside, she focused on the conversation around her, determined to make the most of her own newfound acceptance. But a part of her remained hyper-aware of Chris's presence like a compass needle always pointing north.
"...and that's why everyone's scrambling to do business with Nysoria," one of the women, a redhead in a slinky green dress, was saying.
Lily blinked, sure she had misheard. "I'm sorry, what?"
The redhead repeated, "Nysoria. You know, the island nation near Sweden? It's the hottest emerging market right now."
Lily frowned, wracking her brain. She'd been a top student, excelling in geography among other subjects. How could there be a country she'd never heard of?
"Oh, I've never heard of it before," Lily admitted, trying to keep her voice neutral.
The other women exchanged knowing glances, as if Lily had just confirmed her outsider status. Lily felt her cheeks warm, but she refused to be cowed. There was no way this place existed. These women were either mistaken or playing some sort of elaborate prank.
Seeking a distraction, Lily's eyes once again found Chris across the room. He was sipping champagne now, the crystal flute held elegantly in his long fingers. Even in this simple act, he exuded grace and authority. Lily felt that familiar mix of admiration and jealousy stirring in her chest.
Her attention was pulled back to the group as two of the women began arguing heatedly.
"The Nysorian contract will be ours, Diana. My Father is already in talks with their trade minister," a brunette in a red dress insisted.
"Please," Diana scoffed, tossing her blonde hair. "My company's been courting Nysoria for months. We're practically a done deal."
Lily's head was spinning. How could they all be so invested in a place that didn't exist?
Suddenly, an achingly familiar voice cut through the chatter, its tone as sharp and cold as an icicle. "No, girls. It can never be yours."
Lily's blood ran cold. Even before she turned, she knew who she'd see. That voice had haunted her nightmares and had torn down her self-esteem piece by piece throughout her childhood—until the day she had gotten plastic surgery.
Slowly, Lily pivoted to face the newcomer. There, in all her golden-haired, blue-eyed glory, stood Avery Sterling.
Avery's perfect features were arranged in a predatory smile as her gaze locked onto Lily. Recognition flickered in those icy blue eyes, followed by a cruel glint of amusement.
Lily felt her newfound confidence crumbling. All the old insecurities came rushing back, threatening to drown her. She was once again that awkward, plain, ugly-duckling girl, cowering before the beauty queen who had made her life a living hell.
As Avery's perfectly manicured hand reached out in a mockery of a greeting, Lily fought the urge to flee. She stood frozen, heart pounding, as her bully prepared to pass judgment once more.