Chapter 7 - The Gala of the Sovereign
Two weeks later.
The Grand Ballroom of the Grayhaven Palace Hotel was flooded with light, music, and the cream of the city's high society. Politicians, corporate titans, and media moguls moved across the polished marble floor, sipping champagne and exchanging rumors.
The biggest rumor of the night was the sudden, total annihilation of Caleb Wren.
Caleb had vanished from Grayhaven, his company liquidated, his reputation reduced to cinders. And sitting at the high table of the gala, looking like a queen who had finally claimed her throne, was Mireia Dalton.
She wore a floor-length emerald silk gown that clung softly to her curves, her dark hair swept up in an elegant chignon, her neck adorned with a simple, brilliant diamond pendant. But the piece of jewelry that drew every gaze in the room was the heavy, black onyx signet ring on her left index finger.
Beside her sat Darius Villano.
He wore a double-breasted black tuxedo, his posture imposing, his presence commanding the room without a single word. Every major executive who approached their table bowed their head slightly to Darius—and then, under Darius's strict, quiet gaze, bowed with equal respect to Mireia.
Her mother and father sat two tables away, looking bewildered and thoroughly humbled. They had spent years telling Mireia to be more accommodating to Caleb, to not hold him to high standards, to be grateful he had chosen her over her sister.
Now, they watched as the most powerful man in the state pulled out Mireia’s chair, poured her wine, and listened to her speak about museum acquisitions with absolute, rapt attention.
Alyssa walked up to their table, wearing a simple navy dress. She looked nervous, but her eyes were bright with genuine happiness for her older sister.
"Mireia," Alyssa said softly.
Mireia stood up, wrapping her sister in a warm, tight hug. "I'm so glad you came, Lys."
"I wouldn't have missed it," Alyssa whispered, pulling back to look at her sister. "You look... incredible, Mireia. You look like yourself again."
"I am myself again," Mireia smiled.
May you like
Alyssa looked up at Darius, offering a respectful nod. "Thank you, Mr. Villano. For protecting her."
"She protected herself, Miss Dalton," Darius replied smoothly, placing his hand gently at the small of Mireia’s back—a touch that felt hot, protective, and thoroughly electric through the silk of her dress. "She simply required a crown worthy of her head."
