Sophie Langston hadn't expected her night to end in blood-red stilettos and whispers behind crystal glasses.
The gala was held at the Presidential Museum in the capital—an annual charity event that attracted politicians, billionaires, socialites, and journalists. Sophie, 25, CEO of LUXE Media Holdings and daughter-in-law to the President, walked in as an uninvited fire in a room of smoke and secrets. She wore a fitted crimson velvet gown that clung to her 5'7" frame with deliberate elegance. Her long, espresso-brown hair cascaded down her back in waves, a subtle rebellion against the stiff updos around her. Gold earrings sparkled beside her jawline, matching the fire in her amber eyes.
"She came alone?"
"She's bold, I'll give her that."
Their voices followed her, but Sophie had stopped caring. Not since Elliot's death. Not since she'd realized the only way to beat them was to become someone they couldn't ignore—or destroy.
Across the room stood Senator Voss.
Sixty-two. Formerly charming, now dangerously smug. Voss wore a tailored grey suit, skin slightly tanned from recent travel, his hair a salt-and-pepper blend that matched his wolfish smile. He was flanked by aides and elites, but when his eyes locked onto Sophie, the smile faltered.
She smiled sweetly. Her blood sang.
She had receipts in her clutch—financial transfers tied to offshore accounts, companies that didn't exist, photos of Voss and Tina in Vienna last year. Tina—the same sister who faked her own kidnapping to disappear from the country. Sophie knew where she was now. And she would use that information wisely.
Sophie wasn't just attending the gala.
She was here to make a statement.
As she turned toward the bar, her eyes met Aiden's.
The President's son was hard to miss—6'2", dressed in black, the single silver pin on his lapel the only indication of his status. His dark hair was slicked back neatly, his expression unreadable, but his jaw was clenched just tight enough for Sophie to notice. Thirty-one. CEO of Hart Global Security. Ex-military, though few knew the extent of his service. Aiden's body language had changed lately—more guarded, more still. The kind of stillness right before a storm breaks loose.
He hadn't spoken to her since the night she confronted him.
"I was just a pawn?"
"You were my shield. Until I realized you were more than that."
The memory played behind her eyelids like a flickering film reel. Sophie raised her glass and turned away.
Aiden took a breath. His voice in her ear just minutes later made her freeze.
"You knew he'd be here tonight."
Sophie didn't turn.
"And yet, here we are. You, me, and the man who ordered a hit on you."
Aiden's presence at her side was dangerous. His scent—something between spice and cold steel—still knew how to haunt her. She took another sip of her drink.
"Do you think he suspects?" Aiden murmured, his hand resting casually on the bar beside her.
"No," Sophie replied, "but I plan to change that."
He looked at her then—really looked at her. "You're not afraid anymore."
"I was never afraid. I was surviving."
Aiden's lips curled, almost painfully. "Then you're not the same woman I married."
"No," she said, facing him fully. "She died the day Elliot did."
His eyes darkened, and silence formed between them. Not angry silence. Just weight—the kind only shared grief could carry.
Suddenly, the orchestra paused for a speech. Senator Voss stepped forward, lifting a champagne flute. As the room quieted, Sophie's fingers tightened around her clutch.
"He's going to use this night to announce his campaign," Aiden said quietly.
Sophie nodded. "I know."
"You have one shot, Sophie. Make it count."
She moved before she could second-guess.
The red carpet led her toward the stage, cameras beginning to turn. Whispers rose like smoke. She climbed the steps slowly, deliberately, heels clicking like gunshots in the silence.
Senator Voss turned.
"Mrs. Hart," he greeted with faux surprise.
Sophie took the mic from his hand gently. "Just Sophie."
She turned to face the crowd—politicians, billionaires, journalists, enemies dressed in pearls and diamonds.
"I wasn't invited tonight," she began. Her voice was calm. Poised. Dangerous. "But then again, I wasn't invited to my own life either. I was just…used. Married for image. Betrayed by blood. And watched, silently, while the man who destroyed my father walks these halls."
A gasp. Flashes. Voss's expression went rigid.
"You killed Richard Langston," Sophie said, turning slowly to the senator. "My real father. You silenced him. And you almost silenced me. But not tonight."
Her hand lifted the flash drive from her clutch.
"This contains offshore accounts under your name, Senator. Payments made to Tina Langston—your biological daughter. Evidence of corruption, embezzlement, and conspiracy to commit murder."
The room exploded. Reporters rushed forward. Security stepped in.
Sophie looked directly at Voss. "I'm not afraid of you anymore."
Voss lunged—just as Aiden stepped forward and blocked him with a single move.
Chaos.
Cameras. Screaming. Officials swarming in.
But Sophie stood still, eyes locked on Aiden, who had silently protected her even now.
As the senator was dragged away, she finally exhaled. Ten years of pain. One night of justice.
She looked at Aiden.
He gave her a look she hadn't seen in a long time—like he was proud. Like he saw her.
Like he loved her.
But she wasn't ready to forgive.
Not yet.
Not when Elliot's name still echoed in her heart.
Not when Tina was still out there.
Not when power itself had become her prison and her purpose.
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