“If being a trophy pleases you, while clinging to a man who is married and whose wife is standing in the same room, then congratulations. Wear the label proudly.”
Her smile faltered.
“But from where I’m standing,” I continued, “even with all your confidence, there is still something you want and don’thave. The Korven name. Apparently, my tailor too.”
I met her gaze without flinching then lifted my glass and stepped past her with a calm she didn’t deserve.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
I stepped out of the hall before the burn behind my eyes could spill in front of people. The balcony doors opened easily beneath my hand, cold night air rushing over my skin, cooling nothing and calming even less. I set my glass down on a nearby table, then gripped the stone railing trying to steady my breath, but humiliation and jealousy crawled across my chest. It felt alive, tightening every time I replayed the image of Konflict walking in with another woman clinging to him as if she had earned the right to stand in the spot that should be mine.
Footsteps broke the quiet.
I turned slightly, seeing a man step into the soft glow spilling from inside. I didn’t know him, but I recognized the resemblance—sharp jawline, same caramel undertone as Eleana, same arrogance pressed into his posture. He smiled before he even reached me.
“Doesn’t look like your marriage is holding up very well,” he drawled, looking amused. The amusement in his eyes twisted my stomach into a knot.
He let his gaze sweep over me, lingering too long on my hips, on the neckline of my dress, on every place his eyes had no right to go. He bit his lower lip as if he were observing something he believed he could claim.
“I don’t think my marriage is any concern of strangers.”
I held myself together, even as discomfort crawled over my skin.
He chuckled—a low, self-satisfied sound—and lifted his hand to push aside a strand of hair falling across my forehead.
I jerked away so fast my earrings brushed my shoulder.
“Don’t touch me.”
That only widened his grin.
“A real lioness,” he murmured, stepping closer, bringing the smell of expensive cologne and arrogance with him. “I like that. When your marriage ends, I’ll enjoy spending some time with you. You look delicious. I could spend hours tasting your beautiful body. I’ll give you every kind of pleasure your husband clearly doesn’t. And if you’re a good girl, maybe I’ll even help you turn the tables. All you’d need to do is take care of me, Serenity Veylor.”
My name on his mouth made my stomach twist.
I stepped back, revulsion tightening my throat. Enough. I had swallowed too much pain for too long—his words, Konflict’s indifference, the humiliation, the loneliness. Something quietly snapped inside of me, a thin thread, but it was enough to lead my steps off the balcony.
I didn’t slow down once I reentered the ballroom. My eyes found him immediately. Konflict was standing with one of the family heads, Eleana lingering beside him with a smile that begged for attention. Heat climbed my spine, not from desire this time, but from anger burning deep inside me. I walked straight toward him, refusing to let anyone see the tremors underneath my skin.
“We need to talk,” I said, stopping in front of him and lifting my chin. “And you’re going to follow me unless you prefer I make a scene in front of every single person here.”
I didn’t wait for his answer.
I turned on my heel and walked toward a small room the staff used during private meetings. My pulse hammered through my chest, each beat pushing my fury higher. The door closed behind me with a soft click. Seconds later, his steps echoed across the tiled floor.
As soon as he entered, everything inside me erupted.
“You’re an idiot, Konflict,” I spat, the words ripping out ofme before I could measure them. “A coward, too. I thought you hated me for a reason, so I stayed quiet, stayed out of your way, endured everything you threw at me because losing your mother should have meant something. But today—today is the last time I swallow humiliation for you.”
His eyes narrowed, flickering with something like hurt, anger, or shock before he tucked it back behind his cold mask.
“You better watch your fucking tone. Don’t forget who the fuck I am or how deep my hate runs for you and every drop of Veylor blood in your veins. The second this marriage dies, I’m taking your fucking head and finally burying the Veylor line.”
“Oh, I haven’t forgotten,” I shot back, stepping closer, refusing to back away even when his stare sharpened enough to scrape bone. “You’ve made it clear every chance you got. Now let me make myself clear.”
His jaw tightened.
“You want revenge? You want the Veylor name erased? Do it. I don’t care anymore. You have one month left until this marriage dissolves, and I’m done living like a ghost in your world. I’m done waiting for you to remember I exist.”
