The next evening, Adrian knocked on Ariana's door.
She blinked, surprised. He hadn't spoken to her since the study incident.
"We have a charity gala tonight," he said flatly. "You'll need to come."
Ariana frowned. "I don't even know who I am. Why should I pretend to be someone's wife in front of strangers?"
He didn't blink. "Because they already know you are. And we have appearances to maintain. The world doesn't care about your memory loss."
Cold. Icy. Controlled.
Still, she followed him.
The gala was held in a glass ballroom atop the Blackwood Hotel—a glittering affair of crystal chandeliers and champagne flutes. Ariana stood next to Adrian, wearing a dress his assistant had chosen for her: sleek black, backless, bold.
People kept approaching—smiling, complimenting her, calling her by name.
"You look radiant, Mrs. Blackwood."
"She's glowing, Adrian. You're a lucky man."
Adrian smiled on cue, but his eyes remained distant.
Ariana did her best to fake it, feeling like a porcelain doll on display. Every flash of a camera, every clink of a glass, made her dizzy.
Suddenly, her heel caught on the rug.
She stumbled forward—straight into Adrian's chest.
His arms wrapped around her instinctively. Warm. Protective. Familiar.
She looked up, startled, heart pounding.
And for just a second, their eyes locked. His hands lingered on her waist. Her breath caught.
Then, just as quickly, he pulled away. Cold again. Professional.
"Be careful," he muttered, brushing invisible dust from his lapel.
But the flush in his cheeks said something else.
Later, she stepped out onto the rooftop terrace to breathe.
The city lights sparkled like stars below, but her mind buzzed with questions. The contract. The photos. Evelyn's name.
She didn't even hear the footsteps behind her.
"Ariana."
She turned.
The woman in red.
Flawless. Confident. Dangerous. Her crimson lips curled into a smile that didn't reach her eyes.
"You don't remember me," the woman said, stepping closer. "How tragic."
"Should I?" Ariana asked.
The woman's smile widened. "Oh, you should. I'm Evelyn. Adrian's ex-fiancée. The one you replaced."
A cold chill danced down Ariana's spine.
"I didn't mean to—" she started, but Evelyn raised a hand.
"Oh, darling. Don't apologize. It wasn't your fault he married you. It was his." Her voice lowered, venom sweetened with sugar. "But do you really think a man like that can love someone like you?"
Ariana opened her mouth to reply, but Evelyn leaned in closer, her perfume intoxicating.
"He doesn't trust you. He never did. And if you knew the real reason you married him…" She smiled. "You'd run."
"Why are you telling me this?" Ariana whispered.
Evelyn tilted her head. "Because you weren't supposed to survive."
Ariana's blood turned to ice.
Before she could respond, Evelyn turned on her heel and disappeared back inside, heels clicking like gunshots.
Ariana stood frozen, her breath shaky.
She wasn't sure what terrified her more:
The threat in Evelyn's voice...
Or the possibility that it was true.