The sleek black car glided through Veridia City's bustling streets. I sat beside Isabelle, trying to appear calm despite my racing heart. The lights of the city blurred past us in streaks of gold and silver.
"Nervous?" Isabelle asked, her eyes twinkling.
I gave her a wry smile. "Is it that obvious?"
"Your knuckles are white," she said, nodding toward my clenched fist. "Relax, Liam. It's just a party."
Just a party. Right. A gathering of Veridia City's most influential families – people who could crush soone like without a second thought.
"Your definition of 'nothing too formal' seems different from mine," I said.
Isabelle laughed, the sound warming from within. "These are rely acquaintances. Business contacts, family friends." She placed her hand over mine. "Besides, you have ."
Her touch sent electricity through my veins. Before I could respond, the car pulled up to a sprawling mansion with columns that reached toward the night sky.
"Sebastian Hawthorne's residence," Isabelle explained as we stepped out. "New money, but desperate for old connections."
I straightened my jacket, taking a deep breath. "Any advice before we go in?"
"Just be yourself," she said, then added with a mischievous smile, "The version of yourself that isn't afraid of anyone."
We entered a grand hall filled with the soft murmur of conversation and tinkling crystal. Waiters glided between guests, offering champagne and hors d'oeuvres on silver trays. I accepted a glass, grateful for sothing to occupy my hands.
The mont Isabelle stepped into the room, a hush fell over the crowd. All eyes turned toward us – or rather, toward her. She moved with the grace of royalty, her chin held high.
"Isabelle!" A woman in a glittering dress approached, air-kissing both of Isabelle's cheeks. "We weren't sure you'd co tonight."
"I wouldn't miss it, Vivienne," Isabelle replied smoothly. "Allow to introduce Liam Knight."
The woman's gaze flitted over , assessing. Her smile remained fixed, but her eyes cooled several degrees. "How... unexpected. Are you new to Veridia City, Mr. Knight?"
"Relatively," I answered, matching her polite tone.
"Mr. Knight is staying with us at the Ashworth residence," Isabelle added, her voice carrying just enough to be heard by those nearby.
The effect was imdiate. Whispers erupted around us like wildfire. I could almost hear the questions forming in their minds: Who is this man? What is his connection to the Ashworth family?
As we moved through the crowd, Isabelle kept her hand on my arm. Each introduction followed a similar pattern – polite smiles masking intense curiosity, veiled questions about my background, and calculating glances between Isabelle and .
"They're wondering what I'm doing here," I murmured to her after our sixth introduction.
"Let them wonder," she replied, her eyes dancing with amusent. Thank you for reading. This was brought to you by *.
A waiter passed with a tray of drinks. Isabelle took two glasses, handing one to . She clinked her glass against mine, then leaned closer.
"Why don't we give them sothing real to talk about?" she whispered, her breath warm against my ear.
My pulse quickened. "What did you have in mind?"
Isabelle took a sip of her champagne, then said loud enough for others to hear, "You should tell them, Liam."
"Tell them what?"
Her eyes locked with mine, challenging and encouraging all at once. "About us."
Ti seed to slow. In that mont, I understood what she was asking. It was more than just a statent – it was a declaration of war against every expectation, every social barrier that separated us.
I looked around at the crowd of elegant strangers, all watching us with undisguised interest. My old self would have retreated, made excuses, played it safe. But I wasn't that man anymore.
Taking Isabelle's hand in mine, I turned to face the curious onlookers. "I'd like to make sothing clear," I announced, my voice stronger than I expected. "I am Isabelle Ashworth's boyfriend."
The silence was deafening. For three heartbeats, no one moved. Then a glass shattered sowhere in the crowd, the sound like ice breaking.
"Is this true?" soone finally asked Isabelle.
She smiled, squeezing my hand. "Absolutely."
What followed was a flurry of reactions – tight smiles, forced congratulations, widened eyes, and thinly veiled shock. So approached us imdiately, their curiosity overriding their surprise.
"How wonderful," a silver-haired woman cooed, though her eyes were sharp as knives. "How did you two et?"
"At a mont when I needed help most," Isabelle answered before I could speak. "Liam was there."
More guests gathered around us, their questions coming faster.
"What business are you in, Mr. Knight?"
"Are you related to the Knights of Eastern Province?"
"How long have you two been together?"
I fielded each question as best I could, keeping my answers vague yet confident. Through it all, Isabelle remained by my side, her presence my anchor in this storm of attention.
As the initial shock wore off, I noticed the whispers increasing. One na kept surfacing: "Dashiell Blackthorne."
"Who is Dashiell Blackthorne?" I asked Isabelle quietly when we had a mont alone.
Her expression darkened slightly. "A suitor my family once considered. His family has been trying to forge an alliance with the Ashworths for generations."
"And now he'll know about us."
"He already does," she said, nodding toward the entrance. "Word travels fast in these circles."
Before I could respond, the crowd parted to reveal a tall, imposing figure walking toward us. He wasn't particularly old – perhaps in his fifties – but he carried himself with the weight of centuries. His eyes, keen and piercing, fixed on with unnerving intensity.
"Erson Hols," Isabelle whispered. "Grandmaster of the Veridia City Martial Guild. Be careful."
The man stopped before us, inclining his head slightly toward Isabelle. "Miss Ashworth. I hear congratulations are in order."
"Mr. Hols," she greeted him warmly. "How kind of you to say so."
His gaze shifted to . "And this must be the lucky man."
I extended my hand. "Liam Knight."
Hols took my hand, his grip firm. "Indeed."
Without warning, an invisible pressure descended upon . It felt as if the air itself had beco dense, pressing against my skin, forcing the breath from my lungs. My knees nearly buckled under the weight of it.
This was no ordinary handshake. It was a test – a demonstration of power.
I gritted my teeth, summoning my strength to withstand the pressure. Sweat beaded on my forehead as I fought to remain standing. For what seed like an eternity, but was likely only seconds, we remained locked in this silent battle of wills.
Finally, Hols released my hand, the pressure vanishing instantly. His expression revealed nothing, but I caught a flicker of sothing in his eyes – surprise, perhaps, or disappointnt.
"Interesting," he murmured, more to himself than to .
Turning to Isabelle, Hols asked, "Where did you find this one, Miss Ashworth? He's not from Veridia City, I presu."
Isabelle's smile never faltered. "Hmm... he is a man who will stand at the pinnacle of Veridia City in the future."
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