New York City, Midnight.
The gala was a masterpiece of wealth and elegance. Champagne flowed like liquid gold, crystal chandeliers cast a warm, decadent glow, and soft violin music laced the air with an illusion of serenity.
But in the quiet shadows of an abandoned corridor, betrayal was being written in whispers and heat.
Aurora's fingers traced the collar of Julian Laurent's crisp tuxedo, her breath hot against his skin. He should have pulled away. He should have thought of Vivian—the woman who had given him everything.
But he didn't.
Instead, his hands found Aurora's waist, and when their lips finally met, it wasn't soft. It was fire, destruction, and the unspoken confession of a sin they could never take back.