The car glided to a stop in front of the towering glass building where the gala was being held. Dozens of luxury vehicles lined the entrance, their polished surfaces gleaming beneath the dazzling lights. A velvet carpet stretched toward the grand double doors, flanked by uniformed attendants and photographers eager to capture the arrival of the city's elite.
Sophia's fingers instinctively tightened around Leon's arm as her nerves prickled. The sight was overwhelming—men in sleek tuxedos, women in gowns that dripped with opulence, and the rhythmic flash of cameras that never seemed to stop.
But before she could fully process the spectacle, the driver turned toward Leon and asked in a low voice, "Shall I take the private entrance, sir?"
Leon gave a slight nod.
The car veered away from the main entrance and toward a discreet side passage, shielded from the public eye. A man in a sharply tailored black suit was already waiting beside a hidden doorway, his posture rigid with professionalism.
"Mr. Cheng," the man greeted with a respectful bow. "Everything has been arranged. Please, this way."
Leon guided Sophia forward, his grip steady and firm. The moment they stepped inside, the chaos of the outside world melted away, replaced by hushed luxury. A dimly lit corridor stretched ahead, its walls adorned with intricate gold detailing. The air smelled of aged wood and faint cologne, a stark contrast to the bright extravagance beyond these walls.
Sophia let out a slow breath. "You really don't want people to know you're married, do you?"
Leon's gaze flickered toward her, his expression unreadable. "Last time I checked it was your special request Mrs. Cheng or are you having second thoughts about it?"
She held his stare for a second longer before turning her attention back to the hallway.
A set of double doors swung open at the end of the passage, revealing the breathtaking heart of the gala.
The ballroom was a masterpiece of wealth and elegance. A high, domed ceiling stretched above them, adorned with a grand chandelier that dripped with shimmering crystals, refracting light in a thousand directions. The walls were lined with deep burgundy drapes, complementing the polished gold accents that ran through the architecture.
Tables of champagne and imported wine stood elegantly against the perimeter, each glass filled to perfection. Soft classical music hummed from the grand orchestra positioned at the far end of the room, their melody weaving through the air like silk.
The crowd was exactly what Sophia had expected—men and women of wealth and power, each wrapped in the finest couture, their conversations laced with sharp intelligence and subtle arrogance.
Leon moved through the room effortlessly, his presence commanding but never overbearing. People naturally stepped aside when he passed, their eyes flicking toward him with recognition, admiration, and sometimes, fear.
Sophia remained by his side, silent yet observant, her identity still a mystery to those who whispered about the enigmatic woman at Leon Cheng's arm.
As they made their way toward the VIP section, three men approached—business moguls, if their sharp suits and calculating gazes were anything to go by.
The first, Daniel Wu, was a tech tycoon in his mid-fifties, known for his ruthless acquisitions. His sharp eyes flicked toward Sophia, and for the first time in years, his ever-calm mask cracked.
"Leon." His voice carried a slight edge of disbelief. "You brought a date?"
Leon's expression remained impassive. "Something like that."
Daniel's gaze darted to Sophia, a flicker of realization dawning in his eyes when he sees the matching rings on their finger. "Wait. No. This isn't just a date, is it?" He let out a low chuckle. "You got married, didn't you?"
Before Leon could respond, the second man, Harrison Lim, a real estate mogul with a penchant for scandal, let out a sharp laugh. "Holy hell. …" He exhaled, shaking his head. "Leon Cheng, married. Who would've thought?"
The third man, Victor Han, was more composed, but his dark eyes carried something more serious beneath their surface. "Does the board know?" he asked quietly, ignoring the playful jabs of the others.
Leon took a slow sip from his glass of whiskey before responding. "Not yet."
Victor's jaw tightened slightly. "Then I assume this means it stays between us."
Leon's gaze was unreadable, but the subtle shift in his posture spoke volumes. "You assume correctly."
Sophia observed the exchange carefully. Leon didn't raise his voice, didn't issue a direct threat—he didn't need to. The weight of his words alone was enough to silence the men before him.
Daniel let out a low whistle. "Understood, Cheng. But if you think the world won't find out soon, you're underestimating your own influence."
Leon's lips curved into something that wasn't quite a smile. "Let them speculate. Speculation is better than certainty."
With that, the conversation shifted to business—mergers, market trends, and upcoming ventures. But every now and then, Sophia could feel their gazes flickering back to her, as if trying to piece together the enigma that had appeared at Leon Cheng's side.
As the night progressed, more whispers floated through the crowd. Some stole glances, others murmured among themselves, but none dared to approach outright.
Eventually, the orchestra shifted into a slow, haunting melody, signaling the start of the evening's most anticipated moment—the opening dance.
Leon turned to Sophia, extending a hand. "Shall we?"
Sophia hesitated. "I didn't exactly prepare for this."
He arched a brow. "Then consider it a crash course."
With a deep breath, she placed her hand in his.
As they stepped onto the polished dance floor, all eyes followed. The murmurs grew louder, but Leon paid them no mind. His hand settled against the small of her back, guiding her effortlessly into the first step.
It was a slow, intimate waltz—one that required perfect synchronization between partners.
And despite her initial nerves, Sophia found herself moving in perfect rhythm with him.
Leon's grip was firm but never forceful. He led with an ease that spoke of years of refinement, his gaze locked onto hers with an intensity that sent shivers down her spine.
The world blurred. The whispers faded. And for just a moment, she allowed herself to forget the circumstances that had led her here.
But as the music swelled to a crescendo, Leon leaned in slightly, his breath warm against her ear.
"Enjoying yourself?" he murmured.
Sophia exhaled. "I don't hate it."
A smirk ghosted across his lips. "I'll take that as a yes."
As the song ended, applause filled the ballroom. Sophia blinked, suddenly aware of the hundreds of eyes watching them.
Leon gave her a knowing look. "Welcome to my world."
And just like that, the moment was over.
As they stepped off the dance floor, the ambient chatter of the crowd picked up again, but it was clear: everyone had seen them. Everyone was talking. Some smiled politely, others whispered behind champagne glasses. But none of it mattered. Leon Cheng had made his statement tonight—and Sophia, whether she liked it or not, was now part of that narrative.
They hadn't gone far before a lean man in a midnight-black suit approached quietly, his steps precise and deferential. He leaned toward Leon, his voice a breath, meant for his employer's ears only.
But Sophia was close enough to hear it, too.
"Sir, he's ready for you."
Leon's expression didn't change, but there was a flicker—one only someone watching closely would notice.
The man added in a murmur, "Mr. Watanabe is waiting in the Ivory Room."
Sophia's eyes flickered with curiosity, but the name meant nothing to her. Not yet.
Leon gave a slight nod. "Good."
As the man stepped away, Sophia tilted her head. "Mr. Watanabe?"
Leon adjusted the cuff of his suit jacket, his voice low and cool. "One of the richest men in Asia. Deeply religious. Controls a multi-billion-dollar holding company that I'm on the verge of merging with."
She arched a brow. "And what does that have to do with me?"
His gaze found hers again, sharp and deliberate. "He believed the rumors—that I don't like women. He refused to sign the contract unless I proved otherwise."
Sophia's lips parted, realization dawning slowly.
"Tonight," Leon said, smoothing his tie with unnerving calm, "you weren't just my wife. You were my answer."
And with that, he turned away and walked toward the Ivory Room, leaving her standing in the golden-lit ballroom—wrapped in satin and secrets.