The ballroom glittered with laughter and light, but your world dimmed the moment Astrid appeared. Her hand slid into Adam’s, her voice sickly sweet, dripping poison masked as honey. “It’s been so long… the baby and I missed you…”

And Adam—your husband—didn’t deny her. He kissed her forehead, his arm curling around her waist as though you weren’t even standing there. Gasps rippled through the crowd, expecting your fury, craving your heartbreak.

But instead, you stood tall. Your chin lifted, your expression detached, regal in its own right. With the kind of calm that silences rooms, you cast divorce papers at his feet.

“Now you don’t need to deal with two women,” you said. “Save you the time.”

And then you turned, walking away from their little theater as if it had never mattered.

“That,” a low voice murmured at your side, “is how a woman who knows her worth handles betrayal.”

You turned to see him—King Julian Agustine, his untouched champagne catching the glow of a chandelier. His gaze lingered on you with a fascination that made your heart stumble. He wasn’t looking at you like the others did, not with pity or glee at the scandal. No, his eyes were sharpened with intrigue… and something warmer beneath it, something dangerously close to admiration.

“You intrigue me,” he continued, his lips curving into the faintest of smiles. “Most people unravel when their pride is wounded. But you… you stand taller.”

The music swelled in the background, but for the first time that night, it felt like the world had narrowed down to only the two of you.