Chapter 3: THE ENGAGEMENT FROM HELL

CHAPTER THREE: THE ENGAGEMENT FROM HELL

“It’s not the love they fear—it’s the woman who holds the power to destroy them with it.”

The chandeliers sparkled like shattered glass, and the air in the Belcourt Grand Ballroom dripped with secrets, silk, and tension. Every powerful family in the city had arrived in black-tie and blood-thick curiosity. Whispers floated beneath the golden archways—soft, poisonous things wrapped in forced applause.

All of them came for one reason.

To witness the union of two enemies.

Khalistta Denise Devoria and Thadeous Goldenthorn.

It wasn’t love.

It wasn’t desire.

It was strategy—wrapped in an engagement ring and coated with lies.

Khalistta stood before the tall mirror in the preparation lounge. Her scarlet gown clung to her curves like temptation itself, the deep slit revealing a dagger strapped to her thigh—not for decoration. Her black curls were pinned to perfection, a few cascading down her bare shoulder like sin. Her lips were painted crimson, her eyes rimmed in charcoal.

“You look like vengeance dressed as royalty,” Ashley Noire breathed, standing behind her in a blush-colored gown.

“That’s the goal,” Khalistta murmured. “If I can’t destroy them in war, I’ll ruin them at their own table.”

Ashley hesitated. “Are you sure you want to go through with this? With… him?”

Khalistta stared at her reflection a moment longer, then whispered, “I don’t want him. I want what marrying him will cost his family.”

Ashley touched her arm gently. “Then burn them. But don’t burn yourself with them, Khali.”

The ballroom fell into hush when the grand doors opened.

All heads turned as Khalistta descended the curved staircase. Every step echoed, her heels striking marble like warning shots. The moment her face was visible—no more glasses, no more fake identity—gasps filled the room.

She was no longer hiding.

Thadeous stood at the foot of the staircase, wine glass in hand, tuxedo immaculate, his silver eyes locked only on her.

She looked like a threat.

A beautiful, dangerous threat wrapped in red silk and fury.

His jaw twitched as he watched her walk.

He hated the way her presence made the air heavier.

He hated that the girl he once mocked was now the woman haunting his control.

But above all, he hated how much he wanted her.

“You clean up well,” he murmured when she reached him.

She gave him a cold, sharp smile. “You don’t.”

Thadeous smirked. “Touché.”

They stood under the golden arch as a hush fell over the crowd. The emcee’s voice echoed:

“Tonight, we gather not just for union, but for legacy.

To witness the official engagement of Thadeous Goldenthorn and Khalistta Devoria.”

The crowd clapped—fake, strained, forced.

The ring was presented.

Thadeous took her hand, eyes never leaving hers.

He slipped the ring on.

A fire lit in her chest.

Not love.

Not nerves.

War.

They posed for photos. The crowd swarmed. Every socialite and politician approached them with fake smiles and congratulatory poison.

“I didn’t think you’d show,” Thadeous said between smiles, leaning close.

“You didn’t think I had the spine?” she replied.

“I didn’t think you had the guts to face your enemies in a ballroom full of wolves.”

She leaned even closer. “I am a wolf.”

Their fake smiles met the flash of cameras.

Queenie Althea Reyna Yet had watched enough.

She stood slowly, glass of champagne in hand, her silver gown catching the light like ice.

The room quieted as she raised her glass, fake smile plastered on her plastic-perfect face.

“To the lovely couple,” she said sweetly, voice dripping venom. “May your lies be as pretty as your faces.”

A few laughs. A few nervous coughs.

But Queenie wasn’t done.

“Oh, and Khalistta…” she turned to her, stepping forward with deliberate grace. “Just a friendly reminder: no matter what your ring says, we both know who had him first. Who he’ll always come back to.”

Khalistta’s smile didn’t budge.

Instead, she stepped forward, slow and calm. Then, without warning—

SLAP.

The sound echoed. Cameras stopped clicking.

The ballroom froze.

“Thank you for reminding me, Queenie,” Khalistta said smoothly. “I forgot trash talks.”

Gasps.

Queenie stood stunned, a red mark forming on her cheek.

Khalistta leaned in, her voice icy. “He may have been yours once—but remember: men don’t leave fire for ash.”

The crowd erupted in whispered shock.

Thadeous watched her, stunned. Amused. Impressed.

And, infuriatingly, interested.

Backstage, minutes later.

“You enjoyed that,” Thadeous said, cornering her near the corridor wall.

“Which part?” Khalistta replied coolly, pulling a hairpin from her curls. “Humiliating your ex or showing the press I’m not a doll?”

He stepped closer. “You’re dangerous.”

“I’m not your type, remember?”

“Not even close,” he said.

They were too close. Too silent.

Her breath hitched. His eyes dropped to her lips.

Then—

“KHALIE!”

Ryan Aguilar stormed in, urgency in his voice.

Khalistta turned. “Ryan?”

His face was pale, jaw clenched. “There’s been a break-in. The Devoria estate. Your brothers are handling it, but it’s targeted. Someone’s trying to send a message.”

Her blood turned to ice.

She didn’t wait.

She threw off her heels and gown train and stormed out, Thadeous following without a word.

Behind them, Queenie watched it all from the shadows, her smile curling into something dark.

“This isn’t over,” she whispered to herself.

“Not by a long shot.”

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