The Dress Is Beautiful. You Don’t Deserve It.

Tears sprang into Bethany’s eyes.

She shook her head desperately.

“No. You misunderstood. I didn’t say Black—ah!”

Another slap.

Exactly the same place.

Two teeth flew from her mouth, trailing blood.

She didn’t dare speak again. She only sobbed, her face smeared with tears and blood.

Nobody stepped forward to defend her.

Her father heard her scream and rushed over.

Seeing his daughter’s bloody face clearly distressed him. But one look at Lucian’s vicious, icy eyes was enough to swallow his anger.

He forced a humble, pleading smile.

“Mr. Blackwood, may I ask what my daughter did to offend you?”

“Your daughter has no manners. She’s spreading rumors about me, so I was kind enough to teach her some.”

Lucian gave him an indifferent glance.

“Do you have a problem with that?”

Mr. Hart’s face took on a grayish tinge.

He bowed his head before a man roughly twenty-four years younger than him and forced out each word.

“She’s fortunate to receive your guidance.”

Fairhaven’s Devil was no joke.

The Harts had only just managed to work their way into the city’s elite. Offend Lucian, and they would be driven back where they came from by tomorrow.

Bethany had started by inventing stories about me.

Then she overreached and dragged the Devil into them.

Idiots like her dug their own graves.

In the end, her father pulled his bloodied daughter out through the back entrance.

A pool of blood remained on the floor.

The servers quickly cleaned it away, but everyone had already seen it.

Lucian wasn’t finished.

“Go on. You were all having such a good time. What other dirty secrets does Stella have? I’m listening.”

Silence.

After what happened to Bethany, they would have had to be insane to provoke him.

“Mr. Blackwood.”

Pearl stepped forward, looking gentle and reasonable.

“I know you and Stella have had your differences. Let me apologize on her behalf.”

She bent toward him, one hand hovering over her neckline in a show of modesty.

It concealed absolutely nothing that needed concealing.

Lucian was six foot two. Even in heels, she stood half a head shorter than him.

One glance down gave him a clear view of everything.

His gaze fixed on her, direct and invasive, his expression difficult to read.

“That dress is beautiful…”

She bit her lip shyly, about to answer.

Then he finished.

“But you don’t deserve to wear it.”

I laughed.

Her expression froze as though she had swallowed a fly.

But her capacity for shamelessness was impressive.

In less than a second, she recovered.

“You’re such a tease. You didn’t bring a date tonight. Does that mean I can sit beside you?”

She phrased it as a question, but she was already taking the seat.

She looked at him through her lashes, making no attempt to hide the invitation.

And he didn’t refuse.

In fact, Miles hadn’t stopped her when she sat down.

That alone said enough about Lucian’s wishes.

He really was interested in her.

After she sat, he turned to look at her several times.

For him, that was unheard of.

His attention was fixed on her. There was even a rare trace of tenderness in his eyes.

My gaze slowly chilled.

If he fell for her and married into the Whitmore family, they would have his power protecting them.

The truth about my death would never come out.

A despair I couldn’t put into words began to spread through me.