I walked past her, I caught my reflection in the small office mirror. My brown eyes were dull, lifeless. The face staring back wasn’t mine—it belonged to someone trapped, someone defeated.
But defeat wasn’t an option. Not yet.
"Just the beginning," I whispered to myself, echoing his words.
If this was the start, I needed to prepare for the storm that was coming. Because if Nathaniel Graves thought I’d let him destroy me, he was wrong. Dead wrong.
"Ah, Tiffany Aldridge, the cunning vixen from a family of thieves."
Nathaniel's words rang through the ballroom like a slap.
My glass of champagne froze mid-air, the golden liquid trembling under the harsh glare of the chandelier.
Gasps erupted around me, sharp and stinging.
My pulse roared in my ears as dozens of eyes turned my way, dissecting me, judging me.
"You’re bold, showing up here," Nathaniel continued, his smirk a blade aimed at my throat. "But then again, boldness runs in your blood, doesn’t it?" My cheeks burned. The room seemed to shrink, the walls pressing in, suffocating me under the weight of their whispers.
This wasn’t just a party—it was a spectacle.
"What are you implying, Nathaniel?" I managed, though my voice betrayed a tremor.