I clenched the porcelain bowl tighter, praying for relief as bouts of bile continued to pour out of my mouth.

"Sienna? Are you okay in there?" Stefan's voice filtered through the door, tinged with genuine concern.

Struggling to catch my breath, I managed to rasp, "I'll be fine, Stefan. Just give me a minute."

"You sure you don't need my help?"

I clenched my teeth against the wave of another nausea. "No. I'm...fine."

I was not.

Each retch felt like a punch to the gut. My head throbbed and my stomach churned. I thought I was done with this phase but apparently, I was not.

After what felt like an eternity, the heaving finally subsided, leaving me weak and quavering as I rinsed my mouth with water, trying to wash away the taste of bile.

Glancing at my reflection in the mirror shortly after, I was relieved to see that my makeup had miraculously stayed intact; a small mercy amid this chaotic evening. It would have been horrible if after spending the afternoon surrounded by a flurry of beauty aestheticians who carefully applied makeup, styled my hair, and adorned me with delicate white accessories, it all went to waste.

The theme of Grandpa's birthday party was an enchanting "all white" affair and the breathtaking white satin gown those stylists had fitted me into embodied the purity and sophistication of the theme.

I turned slightly. The halter bareback dress hugged my curves like a second skin, shimmering with its own ethereal glow. I looked beautiful beyond words and I should've been smiling and happy but deep down I was not.

With a deep breath, I composed myself and emerged from the bathroom, only to be met with Stefan's concerned gaze.

"Are you sure you're okay to leave?" He asked, his brow furrowed and eyes raking over me. He was also dressed in an all-white two-piece tuxedo.

"I'm fine, Stefan," I insisted with a wry smile.

But he wasn't convinced. His worry was etched into the lines of his face. "Do you want me to call Tristan?"

I shook my head. I didn't want to speak to him. I remembered tears pricking at the corners of my eyes as I watched him leave this morning. Was it so bad that I wanted him to be whole again so that he could completely be mine? Why did he have to treat me that way? All day a feeling of helplessness loomed over me. I had been torn between the desire to talk to him and the stubborn resolve to stay mad. Part of me longed to bury the hatchet, to let go of what he had done but another part of me held back, unwilling to forgive so easily, unwilling to let him off the hook so soon.

Placing a hand on my shoulder, Stefan said softly, "Sienna, you don't have to pretend everything's okay if it's not. You know I'm here for you, you can talk to me."

His words struck a chord and I felt the tension in my shoulders begin to melt away. "Thank you, Stefan" I murmured. "But I'm fine. It's probably something I ate."

He looked at me, silent and observing. "You sure there's not something you want to tell me, Sienna?"

"Something like what?"

He gave me a look.

"What, Stefan?"

Another moment of silence passed as he stared at me.

And then he shook his head.

"Never mind, let's go."

***

A flurry of incessant camera flashes descended upon us the moment we arrived, momentarily blinding me with their intensity.

"There she is! Mrs. Larsen, over here! Can you tell us more about your relationship with the billionaire?!" One of the reporters clamoring for attention called out, thrusting a microphone in my direction.

I plastered on a smile, trying to navigate through the sea of probing questions. "We're just here to celebrate his grandfather's birthday tonight," I replied diplomatically, sidestepping any personal inquiries.

But the paparazzi were relentless. "Are a big family in the picture for you two?" Another voice chimed in, causing my cheeks to flush with embarrassment.

The universe couldn't be more accurate.

"Why did you try to keep your relationship out of the public eye for so long?! Is it staged?!"

Stefan stepped closer, acting as a shield between me and the onslaught of questions. "Let's focus on the occasion, shall we?" he interjected smoothly, guiding me towards the entrance of the hall.

He seemed unbothered by the attention; probably because he was used to it.

"Thank you," I whispered.

"It's fine."

Inside, the grandeur of the surroundings momentarily distracted me from the frenzy outside.

The air was filled with a soft melody, mingling with the tinkling of laughter and the murmur of conversation. I paused to take in the sight before me, feeling as though I had stepped into a dream. The hall was bathed in ethereal light, suffused with a soft, golden glow that cast everything in a radiant halo. Everywhere I looked, guests adorned in pristine white mingled amidst the splendor of the surroundings. Flowing dresses and tailored suits shimmered in the light, their elegance rivaling that of the grand hall itself. It was as if time had stood still, transporting us to a realm where beauty and grace reigned supreme.

The decor was equally enchanting, with towering pillars adorned with cascading white flowers and delicate ivy winding its way around the ornate archways. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, casting shimmering patterns of light across the polished marble floors.

I felt a flutter of anticipation in my chest as Stefan led me further into the heart of the celebration, each step bringing us closer to the epicenter of the enchantment that enveloped us. As we moved through the crowd of over three hundred, I couldn't help but marvel at the sheer extravagance of it all, feeling a sense of wonderment that bordered on disbelief.

Money, power, elegance. I really did not belong in this world.

After finding me a seat on a round large table, Stefan slipped away, leaving me to myself. I grabbed a glass of champagne from the passing server and drank whilst scanning the crowded room with hopes of seeking Tristan out.

And I did.

My eyes caught him ascending the raised stage,  looking like a spotlight of attention in that white tuxedo that fit his muscular frame so perfectly it should be considered a second skin.

Despite what had transpired between us this morning, I couldn't deny the rush of admiration and pride that surged through me at the sight of him.

I was blessed with an effortlessly beautiful man. He had such a natural charm that drew people in effortlessly. Sitting still, I drank him in. The way he carried himself with such poise and animal grace reminded me why I fell in love with him in the first place. He exuded so much power and confidence. This man had not a single ordinary bone in his body. Even if he tried to be, he just couldn't.

He dominated the crowd, stealing the gazes of both man and woman even before he began, and when he did, when he spoke his first words into the microphone, the buzz of conversation and clinking glasses that once filled the air utterly seized.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, welcome. I am Tristan Larsen, first grandson of Bernard Larsen."

I felt shivers in my feet. How was it that the deep baritone of his voice instantly made me hot?

As he began his speech, the room fell even silent, all eyes on him. What a skilled speaker. Was there anything this man couldn't pull off?

"Isn't he just dreamy?" One of the middle-aged women sitting a hand-stretch away from me sighed out, catching my attention.

"Don't get too excited." The other woman who seemed to share the same age bracket with her chimed in in a whisper. "All that glitters isn't gold."

My brows furrowed at her statement and though it wasn't in my place to eavesdrop, I couldn't help but lean in close and listen in.

"What do you mean? He's a fine and successful young man. He attended the same college as my daughter Emily. I heard he was always so reserved and never talked to anyone."

"Reserved?" The lady huffed. "Wasn't he the one who was involved in the murder case of that young girl they found dead at the lake?"

My stomach dropped.

Murder?

"Stop that, Cleo, he was proven innocent."

"That's because his father covered it up. They're all sick in that family, from father to mother to son. Even the daughter acts like a psycho sometimes. I even heard he's married now."

"Oh yes, I heard he married some small-town girl. They've been keeping it out of the limelight for personal reasons."

The woman chuckled. "I wonder why that is."

I frowned and took a large chug of my champagne. What the hell did they think they knew about us?

"He most likely couldn't get anyone to settle for him so he bought the poor girl over. I mean, who in their right mind would want to settle for a deranged man?"

"He is not deranged, Cleo. But I do agree that the girl is likely after his money."

Whispered chuckles rang. "She's probably counting the seconds until she can get her hands on his bank account."

Her words hit me like a tidal wave and I clenched my teeth, fighting back the urge to defend myself, to scream that they were wrong, that my love for Tristan was genuine and deep just like his love for me.

"Girls of these days are just too materialistic."

"What do you expect when a child comes from the trenches? If anything I blame the mother who birthed a child she couldn't take care of."

Okay, I had just about heard enough. Clenching my fist, I turned, just about to redress when a round of applause rang through the crowd, stopping me.

Tristan had finished his speech and the crowd went wild, clapping and hollering.

The two women stood and clapped as well, further enraging me—bunch of hypocrites. Squeezing my fists, I stepped out of the table and excused myself from the crowd, seeking a moment of solitude to collect my anger.

Inside the restroom offered a sanctuary, albeit a temporary one. The soft hum of the ventilation system and the dim glow of the overhead lights provided a welcome contrast to the chaos outside. I locked myself in one of the stalls and took a moment to steady my breathing.

Deep down, I knew it would be futile trying to confront those women. They had already made up their minds about me; I would always be judged by the size of my bank account, rather than the depth of my heart.

It took a few more minutes to finish my business. When I was done, I stepped out and instantly met an unexpected obstacle,

Lily.

My step faltered.

My day couldn't get any worse.

She was standing in front of the vanity sink, applying gloss to her cherry red lips that complimented her red fuck me heels which stole the show from the short white see-through dress exposing her tanned skin and small cleavage.

I recovered and made my way to the sink to wash my hands. She turned to me, her lips curled into a contemptuous smirk as she regarded me with thinly veiled disgust. But I refused to give her the attention she wanted as I proceeded to wash my hands in silence.

"Fancy meeting you here."

Ignoring her, I pulled out a tissue and wiped my hand.

"I have to give my brother some credit. I didn't expect him to still be joined with a street rat like you."

With a sigh, I tossed the paper into the trash bin and turned towards the door because I knew engaging with Lily would only make things worse, but she got in front of me, standing in my path like a formidable barrier. Her icy stare bore into me. "I can't for the life of me figure out why though."

I looked at her morosely. "Oh, I don't know Lily, maybe you should try asking him yourself,"

She stepped closer, invading my personal space with deliberate intent. "Or maybe I'm wrong. Maybe he has something on you. Or...is it you who has something on him? Is that why he has refused to discard the likes of you?"

The audacity of her insinuation left me reeling. I jutted my chin, meeting her glare. "I don't need to manipulate anyone to love me, Lily."

"Look at her? So confident. Seems like you've suddenly forgotten where you came from. You think you can waltz in here and act like you belong?" Her shoulders rose with a laugh of mockery. "Pathetic."

"You know what's pathetic? you desperately trying to bully me because you think being rich gives you an edge." I shot back, my voice steady despite the bitterness brewing inside me. "Get over yourself, Lily. I'm here because I have every right to be. I'm here because Tristan loves me, he married me. Learn to live with it."

Her lips curled into a disdainful sneer. "My sick brother might have married you into this family but you'll forever remain an outsider; a stain to the Larsen name."

I balled my fists.

"So stop trying to worm your way in." She scoffed. "I mean if my mother was alive she would never allow a wretch like you to walk around with borrowed privilege."

That just about did it. I stepped forward and hissed right back. "Well, she's dead, isn't she? And thank God for that."

Her eyes lit up. "Did you just—"

That must have hit a nerve. I shrugged. After what she made Tristan go through that devil incarnate deserved to never have been born. "Oops, sorry it slipped."

Her face contorted with rage and before I could react, her hand whipped through the air, delivering a stinging slap across my cheek. "You stupid bitch! How dare you?!"

The shock of the blow fueled my own fury, and without a second thought, I retaliated, my palm meeting her cheek with a resounding crack.

Lily stumbled backward, a mixture of shock and fright painted on her face. "Did you just slap me?"

"I'll do it again if you come closer."

"Why you little—" she cursed, her hand shooting out in an attempt to slap me across the cheek again. But this time, I was ready.

I caught her wrist in a vice-like grip before her palm could make contact with my skin. "Don't you even think about laying your filthy hands on me again."

"You silly brat!" She lashed out, wiggling her hand to break free but I held it firm. "Let me go right now!"

"Get a better job, Lily." I spat. "Being trolled by you is getting boring."

That said, I released her hand and pushed past her, refusing to dignify her with any further response as I stormed out and made my way back into the party.

When I returned, I had completely lost sight of Tristan.

Where the hell was he?

I couldn't find him anywhere. I searched the crowd again, deciding to go to him and finally be with him. There was too much happening around me.

"Sorry, excuse me, have you seen my husband, Tristan?" I asked one of the servers but he shook his head and proceeded with his walk.

Even Stefan was nowhere to be found. How could they just abandon me in a large crowd like this?

Frustration simmered beneath the surface as I navigated through the crowded room, my eyes scanning the sea of caked faces for any sign of Tristan.

The voices around me blended into a cacophony of indistinguishable chatter, drowning out my thoughts as I pushed my way through the throng of people.

Lost in my search, I didn't notice the figure approaching until it was too late. With a sudden jolt, I collided with him, stumbling backward until strong arms encircled my waist, steadying me before I could fall.

"Careful, little one."

The heaviness of his voice made a chill race down my spine.

Holy...

I blinked up at him, momentarily speechless as I took in his rugged features.

A Greek God. I was face to face with a Greek God. Except this one had inky tattoos on his face and neck which heightened his masculinity in a very sinful way.

He was also dressed in a fitting white tuxedo but he exuded this dark aura that I just couldn't explain with words. Goosebumps broke over my skin. His piercing gaze held mine captive and his cologne, it was making me unable to think. "I-I'm fine," I stammered, my cheeks flushing with embarrassment at my clumsiness. "Thank you for...catching me."

A small smile tugged at the corners of his dark lips, highlighting his labret piercing. "No problem. It's a bit chaotic in here, you should be more careful."

A flutter of butterflies danced in my stomach. I nodded, unable to tear my gaze away from him as I steadied myself on my feet. "I know, I was just trying to find my husband, Tristan, have you by any chance seen him?"

"I'll be damned." His eyes twinkled with amusement. "You're Mrs. Larsen?"

He knew who I was. I smiled. "Yes,"

His eyes slowly drew down, raking over my body, taking every inch of me in slowly. "What a pleasant surprise, I'm Alaric Larsen." he introduced, stretching out his hand for me to take. "Tristan's cousin."

Oh, whoa. I placed my hand over his big one. "Sienna."

"Sienna..." He echoed with a note of amusement as he caressed my knuckles with his thumb. The warmth of his touch made my cheeks begin to heat again. "Beautiful name, beautiful face. I can understand why." He kissed my knuckle.

I chuckled. "You're flattering."

"It's my charm." He smiled. "Care to join me for a dance?"

Caught off guard by his sudden invitation, I hesitated for a moment. "Actually I should..."

"Help a man cure his boredom, Sienna. I might die from it."

I glanced over to the crowd again, trying to find Tristan. I quickly spotted him on the far side of the room, surrounded by people desperate to talk to him, many of whom were mostly women.

"I don't think he'll mind," Alaric mentioned behind me. "He seems too busy to care about what you do."

I felt a wave of embarrassment hit me. He was right. Tristan didn't care. Unable to stand the tension, I averted my gaze.

Fine.

Swept up in the moment, I turned and found myself nodding in agreement. "Sure," I replied with a smile. "I'd love to dance."

"This way."

With a grin, he moved me through the crowds of people, his hand resting gently on the small of my back, guiding me with practiced ease to the center of the dance floor.

The music pulsed through the air, enveloping us in its rhythm as we started to sway together, our bodies moving in perfect synchrony.

Alaric movements were fluid and graceful, natural with the music. I could tell he was a skilled dancer, whereas I struggled to keep up.

"Do you do this often?" I was forced to ask.

"What? Dance?"

I nodded.

"I have attended over a thousand balls in my lifetime. Eventually it becomes one with you."

"Rich people problems."

We both laughed and danced and as the music continued to swirl around us, his proximity intensified and the air between us crackled with an undeniable tension that sent a thrill coursing through my veins.

There was something about this man that I just couldn't wrap my fingers around.

His gaze, intense and probing, seemed to penetrate the very depths of my soul as he leaned in closer, his lips tantalizingly close to my ear. "Tell me something Sienna, are you happy?"

His question hung in the air like a delicate thread, weaving its way through my thoughts and stirring up a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. Was I happy? Well yes of course I was. "Yes. I am. Very much so."

"Mm, and does Tristan treat you right?" he asked me, his hands dropping low on my waist, thumb caressing my exposed skin.

My heart pounded in my chest as I struggled to find the right words. "I..." I faltered, my voice trailing off as I searched for a response. "How else would he?"

He smiled, a hint of mischief dancing in his eyes. "Well considering his history with women..."

My brows furrowed. "What history with women?"

He leaned even closer, his lips brushing against my ear in a whisper. "You see...my cousin has always had a unique taste in—"

"And what the hell is happening here?"

A familiar voice sliced through the air like a blade at that moment, shattering the fragile bubble of curiosity that had enveloped me. I turned immediately, shocked to find Tristan standing behind us, his eyes ablaze with rage.

My mouth dried up. "Tristan..."

"Let go of my wife," He ordered through gritted teeth, his gaze hot and his expression darkening with every passing moment, but Alaric didn't dislodge his hand from my waist, instead, he held me tighter against him, keeping me in place. "We're just dancing, cousin. No harm done."

I didn't need a rocket scientist to tell me these two had something brewing between them. I put my hands on Alaric's shoulders. I didn't want any trouble. "Please just-"

"Get over here." Seizing my arm in a vice-like grip, Tristan yanked me away from him with a roughness that left me reeling.

Alaric laughed. "It seems you haven't told her about us cousin, what a shame."

Tristan's expression turned even darker. Tugging me closer, he seethed. "Stay the hell away from me and my wife, Alaric. This isn't a warning or threat, I will fuck you up if you touch her again."

Alaric smiled. It was a senile one. "Mm, you must really like this one."

"Come on, we're leaving, now." Without preamble, Tristan started to drag me away from the dance floor, and as he did, I stole one last glance over my shoulder, meeting Alaric's gaze for a fleeting moment.

In his eyes, I saw a mixture of dark amusement and challenge, and something right there told me I was going to be seeing him again.