The Blackwood Charity Gala had always been a spectacle an event that drew the most powerful names in business, politics, and high society. But this year, it was more than just an elegant evening. It was a message.
Lena stood before the grand ballroom's towering glass windows, watching as luxury cars pulled up to the estate's entrance. Guests stepped onto the red carpet, cameras flashing as they greeted the press. If Vaughn had intended to rattle Damian, tonight would prove he had failed.
"Everything is set," Carter Reynolds, the head of security, murmured as he approached. "Triple the guards, background checks on every guest, and surveillance on all access points."
Lena nodded, forcing herself to exude the same confidence Damian always did. "Any signs of Vaughn?"
Carter's jaw tightened. "Nothing yet. But if he wants to make a statement, this would be the place to do it."
A prickle of unease ran down her spine. Vaughn was too calculated to strike without purpose. If he was coming, it wouldn't be loud it would be strategic.
Power and Pretense
Damian Blackwood knew how to command a room.
Dressed in a sharp black tuxedo, he moved through the crowd with effortless authority, exchanging pleasantries, shaking hands, and maintaining the façade of an untouchable empire. But Lena could see the flicker of calculation in his gaze the way he measured every interaction, every guest, every potential threat.
And then, as if drawn by some invisible force, his eyes found hers.
Lena wasn't sure if it was the weight of the moment or the way the world seemed to narrow when he looked at her, but for a second, she forgot about Vaughn. Forgot about the fire. Forgot about the war simmering beneath the surface.
Damian made his way to her, stopping just close enough that only she could hear him.
"You clean up well, Mrs. Blackwood."
She arched a brow, ignoring the way his deep voice sent a shiver down her spine. "Flattery? Should I be concerned?"
His lips barely curved. "Only if it works."
Before she could retort, a server stepped up, offering them each a glass of champagne. Damian took his with a nod, his fingers grazing hers for just a moment just long enough to unsettle her.
"Enjoying the show?" he asked.
Lena's gaze swept the ballroom, where deals were being made under the guise of small talk. "I can see why you like these events. Everyone pretends, but in the end, it's about power."
Damian's expression turned unreadable. "Everything is about power, Lena."
A chill ran down her spine not because she disagreed, but because she was beginning to understand just how deeply that truth ran in his world.
A Warning in the Dark
The gala was in full swing when the first sign of Vaughn's presence appeared.
A note.
It was slipped into Lena's clutch when she wasn't looking, a small white envelope with nothing but her name scrawled across the front.
Her pulse spiked as she carefully opened it, revealing a single line of text.
"A gilded cage is still a cage. Are you ready to be set free?"
Her breath hitched.
Vaughn had been here.
Her fingers tightened around the note as she scanned the crowd, searching for anything or anyone out of place. But the ballroom was a sea of familiar faces, all engaged in their carefully curated performances.
No chaos. No attack.
Just a message.
A calculated, precise reminder that Elias Vaughn was watching.
And that she was part of the game now.