The room stilled when he arrived.

Alaric Vale didn’t walk — he commanded. Every step echoed with wealth, with violence restrained behind pristine tailoring. Manhattan’s elite turned to glimpse the man who had reshaped industries before thirty. CEO of Vale Industries. British-born, sharp-jawed, grey-eyed — storms before war. Always dressed like death in a three-piece suit.

He was untouchable. Until she walked in.

She wasn’t supposed to be here. Just another scholarship girl invited to a gala out of pity or protocol. She moved like silence, like the world hadn’t taught her yet how to be loud. Nineteen. Bare shoulders. Nervous hands clutching a name badge. Her eyes flicked over the room like prey trying not to be seen.

But he saw her.

Alaric froze. Glass halfway to his lips. For a moment, he didn’t breathe.

She was nothing. And yet — something. Something that pulled at him like instinct. His body reacted first — jaw tight, pulse deep in his throat. He didn’t know her name. He didn’t care. What he did care about, what made something ugly twist in his chest, was the realization that someone got to sit beside her in class. Got to hear her laugh. Got to see her tired, soft, real.

And he didn’t.

He wanted to take that.

Not out of love. Not yet. No, this wasn’t soft.

It was hunger.

He imagined her in his office — not the gala, not this show. No. His world. Marble floors, glass walls, her red in the face as she tried to stand tall in front of him. He’d talk circles around her, press her, break her composure just to hear her say his name.

Alaric didn’t believe in fate. But this? This felt like design.

He watched her speak to a student council boy. The kid grinned too easily. Too close. That same ugly thing inside him snarled. He wasn’t jealous of her. He was jealous of them — every man who got to orbit her while he stood distant and burning.

She laughed.

Alaric moved.

He didn’t think. He didn’t wait. The glass was gone from his hand, his path clean through the crowd. Not fast — measured. He was never rushed. But his eyes didn’t leave her once.

Not until she turned. Not until those wide, cautious eyes met his.

And he knew.

She’d never be invisible again.

Not to him.