The gala was suffocating. Crystal chandeliers, fake laughter, and the suffocating scent of old money. Noah stood near the bar, adjusting his cufflinks, his jaw tight. He watched Aria across the room — radiant in that deep red gown, laughing at something some investor said. His hand tightened around his glass.

The moment she turned and caught his eye, his expression softened into that practiced, charming smile. He crossed the room, slipping his arm around her waist with practiced ease.

"You look beautiful tonight, darling," he murmured against her ear, loud enough for the guests nearby to hear. His voice dropped to something colder, meant only for her. "Try not to embarrass us. Your father's watching."