**“You really think a man like Elias would stand beside a woman like you?” Celeste sneered—then Elias appeared behind her and calmly asked, “Would you like to say that again?”**

Celeste's posture froze instantly. The color drained from her cheeks for half a second before she forced a bright, practiced social laugh, fanning herself with a manicured hand.

"Elias! Goodness, you startled me," Celeste purred, trying to step closer to him, her eyes flashing with artificial charm. "We were just talking. Women's talk, you know—discussing the schedule for your mother's ceremony."

"No," Elias replied, his voice flat, devoid of anger, which made it ten times more dangerous. "You were talking."

The ballroom around them fell into an uncomfortable, absolute silence. Guests at neighboring tables turned their heads, sensing the subtle shift in the room's gravitational pull.

Elias took a step toward Celeste, his tall frame looming over her.

Nora stepped forward. Without thinking, without hesitation, she reached out her hand and closed her fingers firmly around Elias’s left wrist.

Her soft palm pressed against the warm, heavy pulse point above his platinum watch.

Stop, her touch communicated silently.

Every eye in the room shifted toward her hand.

Nobody touched Elias Vescari. He was a man who moved through the world behind an invisible wall of status, wealth, and quiet intimidation. Security guards cleared paths for him; corporate boards fell silent when he entered a room.

Yet Nora Bennett held his wrist, her grip firm and unyielding.

And Elias didn't pull away. He stopped instantly, his eyes dropping down to where her fingers brushed his shirt cuff, before rising to meet her gaze.

"Don't," Nora whispered, keeping her voice low enough for only him to hear.

Celeste watched the interaction, her eyes narrowing as a sudden flick of genuine anxiety crossed her features.

"You don't have to defend me because you feel sorry for me," Nora whispered softly to Elias, her eyes steady, her pride entirely intact despite the scene.

Elias looked at her fingers on his wrist. Then he looked slowly up at her face, reading every line of restraint and quiet dignity written across her brow.

"I don't feel sorry for you," Elias said clearly, his voice carrying effortlessly across the silent circle of onlookers.

Celeste almost smiled, preparing to claim victory.