The night of the annual Vance Group Gala arrived sooner than Elara expected. The mansion was bustling with activity, and the air felt charged with anticipation. Elara stood in front of the full‑length mirror in her room, staring at the reflection looking back at her.
She wore an elegant floor‑length gown in soft champagne gold, its fabric shimmering gently under the warm lights. Her hair was styled loosely, falling in soft waves over her shoulders, and subtle makeup highlighted her natural features. For the first time, she looked like she belonged in this world of wealth and status—yet inside, her heart raced with nervousness.
A soft knock came at the door. “Are you ready?”
It was Damian. When Elara turned to face him, she felt her breath catch in her throat. He stood there in a tailored black tuxedo, looking every bit the powerful, handsome billionaire he was. His dark eyes swept over her from head to toe, and for a long moment, he said nothing.
“You look… suitable,” he said finally, though there was a faint warmth in his tone that hadn’t been there before.
Elara raised an eyebrow, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Just ‘suitable’? I’ll take it as a compliment coming from you.”
Damian’s lips twitched into the slightest smile. “Come. We shouldn’t keep everyone waiting.”
As they walked down the grand staircase and entered the ballroom, all eyes turned toward them. The room fell into a quiet hush for a moment before the murmur of whispers began—curious, surprised, and some even envious. This was the first time Damian Vance had brought a woman as his wife to a public event, and everyone wanted to know who she was.
Damian placed a firm hand on her waist, guiding her forward. The touch was professional, as per their agreement, but Elara could feel the heat of his palm through the thin fabric of her gown. “Remember what we discussed,” he murmured close to her ear. “Smile, stay close, and let me do the talking.”
“I remember,” she replied softly, lifting her chin and putting on her most graceful smile.
They were soon surrounded by guests—business partners, relatives, and old friends of the family. Each introduction felt like a test, but Elara answered every question with poise and kindness, surprising even herself. She was not the shy, helpless girl she had been a week ago; she was learning to stand her ground.
When they reached the far end of the room, Damian’s grandfather, Mr. Arthur Vance, stood waiting. The elderly man looked sharp and observant, his eyes missing nothing.
“Damian, my boy,” he said, shaking his grandson’s hand firmly. Then he turned his gaze to Elara, his expression softening slightly. “And this must be your wife. It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Elara.”
“The pleasure is mine, Sir,” Elara replied, giving a respectful nod. “Thank you for having me.”
Arthur studied her for a moment, then smiled. “You have a good head on your shoulders, I can tell. Damian needs someone who can keep up with him. I hope you will make him happy.”
Elara felt Damian’s hand tighten gently on her waist, and she smiled back. “I will do my best, Sir.”
As the evening went on, Elara found herself enjoying parts of the night more than she expected. Damian did not leave her side for long, and whenever someone tried to corner her with sharp questions or subtle insults, he stepped in smoothly, shielding her without making a scene.
Later, while they stood near the terrace doors for a moment of quiet, Elara looked up at him. “You handled that very well. Almost as if we really are married.”
Damian looked down at her, the bright lights of the city reflecting in his eyes. “We have to be convincing. But… I must admit, you did better than I imagined you would.”
Before Elara could reply, a familiar voice cut through the air—sweet, but dripping with malice.
“Well, well… look who we have here. Damian Vance and his new wife.”
They turned to see Victoria Hale, a woman who had long been rumored to be the one chosen for Damian by many in society. She wore a striking red dress, her smile cold and calculating as she looked Elara up and down.
“Darling,” Victoria said, placing a hand on Damian’s arm, ignoring Elara completely. “I can’t believe you got married without telling me. And to someone I’ve never even heard of before.”
Damian immediately pulled his arm away, his expression turning icy. “Victoria, this is my wife, Elara. I would appreciate it if you treated her with respect.”
Victoria’s smile faltered, but she quickly recovered, her eyes narrowing at Elara. “Of course. I just hope she knows what she’s gotten herself into. Being Mrs. Vance is not as easy as it looks.”
Elara met her gaze calmly, refusing to be intimidated. “I am fully aware of my responsibilities, Victoria. But thank you for your concern.”
Damian wrapped his arm securely around Elara’s shoulders, pulling her closer. “Come, Elara. There are more people we need to greet.”
As they walked away, Elara could still feel Victoria’s angry stare burning into her back. She looked up at Damian, who was still frowning slightly. “She doesn’t like me, does she?”
Damian glanced down at her, his expression softening once more. “Ignore her. She has always thought she owned me. But you are my wife now—even if it is only on paper. No one will disrespect you while I am here.”
His words sent a strange, comforting warmth through Elara’s chest. As the night went on, she realized something: this contract marriage was starting to feel less like a business deal, and more like something she never expected to find.