The Jefferson Charity Gala was the kind of event where people wore masks — even when it wasn't a masquerade.
Millionaires came to feel like kings. Billionaires came to remind them they were not.
Elsa stood at the center of it all, radiant in a midnight-blue gown that dripped elegance. But behind her practiced smile, her mind spun with warning bells.
Silas was here.
He had RSVP'd just hours before. No title. No company. Just a name.
Chess, as usual, hadn't reacted. He merely adjusted his watch and said, "It'll be a long night."
Now, Elsa scanned the crowd.
Where was he?
Not Chess. Silas.
Where was the snake in the suit?
Outside, in the courtyard of the Veloria Opera Hall, Chess leaned against a marble column, watching koi fish glide in a private pond.
"Found you," came a voice behind him.
Silas.
Smooth. Sharp. Wearing a white tuxedo like it was stitched from arrogance.
"You're hiding," Silas said.
"No," Chess replied, "I'm waiting."
Silas stepped closer, smirking. "You could've had everything. Influence, power, legacy. But instead, you married into a crumbling empire. Why?"
Chess's answer was quiet.
"Because they needed someone who could rebuild it from within."
Silas chuckled. "So noble. But let's see how long that lasts."
He held up his phone, showing a live social media feed — a live broadcast from the Gala's ballroom.
The caption?
"Jefferson Heiress' Mysterious Husband EXPOSED? Watch Live!"
It was an influencer Chess had never met, doing a full "Who is Chess Golding?" segment in front of the gala crowd — peppered with lies, speculation, and grainy footage of Chess buying instant noodles at a gas station.
Silas sipped champagne. "This world eats weakness for breakfast."
Chess simply asked, "What happens after it swallows something it can't digest?"
Silas tilted his head, amused. "You really think you're the dragon in this story?"
"No," Chess said, stepping forward. "I'm the one that taught it how to fly."
Back inside, the ballroom buzzed with nervous laughter and half-hidden glances. The influencer was still live-streaming, smug and animated:
"…and some say he's not even from the country. No records. No family. Maybe he's just a well-dressed fraud—"
The mic cut out.
Suddenly, the massive projector behind her flickered.
And then — silence.
Then a video played.
It wasn't loud. But it was sharp.
It showed a spreadsheet.
An exact breakdown of that influencer's last five months of undisclosed brand sponsorship deals, undeclared tax evasions, and a voice analysis proving she was paid to slander Chess Golding — by a company linked to Silas Kade.
The audience gasped.
Then another video appeared — security footage from earlier in the day: Silas handing off a silver envelope to the influencer's assistant.
Then, finally, a final message on screen:
"You thought I was the sheep.Turns out… I built the wolves."
The projector snapped off.
All eyes turned to Elsa.
But she wasn't shocked.
She was smiling.
Chess walked in slowly, no tux, no fanfare.
Just calm, clean control.
He looked at the influencer — who was trembling — then simply said:
"Thank you for your service."
She ran.
And in the shadows of the balcony above, Silas watched with narrowed eyes.
He muttered:
"…you were never prey, were you?"
Meanwhile, far from the gala, in a secret bunker under Nova District, a screen flickered.
A cloaked figure sat in silence, watching Chess's face on the footage.
"He's waking up," the figure whispered."The sleeping dragon is waking up… and this world is not ready."