Dorian strode forward, his presence overwhelming, and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. “You’re breathtaking tonight,” he murmured, voice low and deep. “White suits you perfectly.”

  Lyra blushed. “Dorian, this doesn’t feel real. I hardly recognize myself.”

  He chuckled, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Silly girl, you’ve always been beautiful. Just hold my hand tonight, and you won’t have to be afraid of anything.”

  Warmth spread through her chest as she nodded, her fingers curling over his. But then, something flickered in her eyes—a hint of hesitation. “Dorian…” she whispered. “I’m worried about my sister.”

  His expression darkened in an instant. “If she causes trouble again, I won’t be so forgiving.”

  Lyra shook her head. “No, don’t hurt her. I just… I want to apologize. I want to make things right. No matter what she does tonight, don’t stop her. Please.”

  Dorian exhaled sharply, his grip tightening. “Lyra. Clarissa, and I grew up together. I know her too well—she won’t back down that easily.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Lyra said softly. “I’ll do whatever it takes to secure our future.”

  Something unreadable flickered across Dorian’s face. The next second, he crushed his lips against hers.

  Heat rushed through her body as she melted into him. When he finally pulled away, his eyes were hooded with possession. “Let’s go,” he said, threading his fingers through hers.

  Together, they descended the grand staircase, stepping onto the ballroom floor as whispers and applause rippled through the crowd.

  Drake Harrington entered the venue with measured steps, his arm lightly supported by Kira.

  Kira’s sharp gaze swept across the ballroom, her lips pursing slightly at the sight of the glowing couple in the center of attention.

  “Lyra cleans up well,” she muttered. “But she’s still not fit to be the future mistress of the Harrington family." No talent. No ambition. How can someone like her hold the weight of this household?

  Drake, ever composed, chuckled lightly. “Relax, Kira. The more you tighten your grip, the more Dorian will resist. Let him have his way for now. It’ll save us some trouble.”

  Kira glanced at him sideways. “You sound like you’ve done this before.”

  “Dorian has his father’s temper. When his father was young, he fell so hard for a woman that he nearly destroyed himself. He even ran away, eloping like a reckless fool. In the end, he came crawling back.”

  Kira scoffed. Their marriage had been nothing more than a business transaction. As long as Lyra remained docile, easy to control, she had no complaints. Just then—

  A hush swept through the crowd. Soft gasps filled the air, followed by murmurs of disbelief. "Who is that? She’s… stunning."

  "That’s Clarissa Lancaster—the eldest daughter of the Lancaster family!"

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  "Clarissa? Are you serious? Wasn’t she the woman Dorian threw away?"

  "You must not have been paying attention. Clarissa has always been a top-tier beauty. And yet Dorian abandoned that for Lyra?"

  "Maybe Dorian’s blind."

  "Shut up! This is Lyra and Dorian’s engagement party!"

  "Dorian doesn’t want her? Then I do."

  "You? Dream on. You think you’re worthy?"

  Drake and Kira followed the commotion, their eyes landing on the cause of the disruption. Clarissa. She walked through the entrance like she belonged there—like she owned the room.

  Her every step was slow, deliberate, exuding grace and quiet power. The soft glow of the chandeliers reflected off the delicate embellishments on her dress, making it shimmer like liquid diamonds against her skin.

  For a brief moment, time seemed to stop. No one breathed. No one spoke.

  "So that’s Clarissa?" Drake's sharp eyes never leaving the poised figure gliding through the ballroom.

  Kira followed the stunned gaze of the crowd. She exhaled, lowering her voice. “Dad, have you met her before?”

  “Briefly. She’s an impressive woman.”

  Kira hesitated, her fingers tightening slightly. “Clarissa is talented, I’ll give her that. She and Dorian were childhood sweethearts. It’s a shame, really.” There was a rare note of regret in her tone. “I didn’t expect her to show up tonight.”

  The same thought echoed through the room. Everyone here knew that Clarissa had once loved Dorian with a reckless, almost desperate passion. If she had dared to come tonight, it meant she wasn’t here unprepared.

  Excitement sparked in the air. The women leaned in, eager for a spectacle. The men, however, could barely hide their eager, their gazes drinking her in like a fine, forbidden wine.

  Clarissa barely spared them a glance. With effortless elegance, she took a step forward, each movement slow and deliberate, until she stood directly in front of Dorian and Lyra.

  Lyra stiffened, instinctively clutching Dorian’s arm as if he were the only thing keeping her upright.

  Dorian, for the first time in his life, was at a loss for words. He had never seen Clarissa in white before. She had always been bold—fiery reds, commanding blacks, colors. But now…

  Now she stood before him wrapped in ethereal white, the embodiment of nobility and grace. And in that instant, he realized something with startling clarity— Clarissa was stunning. Even more so than Lyra.

  They both wore white, but where Lyra was a delicate roadside flower, trembling under the weight of admiration, Clarissa was an untouchable snow lotus—flawless, untamed, and born to rule.

  “Congratulations, Dorian. You’re getting married.” Her lips curved into a smile, soft but unreadable.

  Dorian sucked in a breath. “Clarissa, what do you want?” His voice was sharp, defensive. “If you came here to stir up trouble, don’t expect me to go easy on you.”

  Clarissa tilted her head slightly, her expression amused. “Relax, Dorian. I was invited.” She turned her gaze toward Lyra.

  Lyra flinched. The moment their eyes met, a violent shiver ran down her spine.

  Instinctively, she ducked behind Dorian, her fingers trembling against his sleeve. “S-Sister…” Her voice quivered, her eyes welling up with unshed tears, making her look small, fragile.

  Clarissa’s smile widened—cool, predatory. “What’s wrong, Lyra? Didn’t you promise Mother you’d apologize to me in person? Now that I’m here, why so quiet?”

  A flicker of panic flashed in Lyra’s eyes. She hadn’t expected Clarissa to be so direct, not in front of so many people.

  But she had already spoken those words. There was no taking them back now. Swallowing hard, she lowered her head. “I’m sorry, Sister. It was all my fault before. Please… forgive me. I’m really happy you came.”

  Clarissa arched a brow. “Forgive you?”

  Something unreadable flickered in her gaze. “Hmm… It’s been so long. I can’t quite remember what you did. Can you repeat it again?”

  Lyra’s face drained of color. The room tensed.

  “Clarissa, don’t push it!” Dorian snapped, his voice edged with anger.

  Clarissa’s head tilted, her gaze flicking to him. “Push it?” she echoed lightly. “Funny. I recall someone vowing they wouldn’t marry unless I gave my blessing. That wasn’t me, was it?”

  Her smile sharpened, eyes glinting like polished steel. “Blessings hold more weight when they’re given in person. So, I came in good faith.”

  She took a slow step closer, her voice like silk laced with thorns. “Now tell me—where’s your sincerity?”

  Her gaze settled on Lyra once more. Lyra’s lips trembled, her hands curling into fists at her sides.

  The color in her cheeks was gone, replaced by a pallor that made her red-painted lips stand out in stark contrast—like a bloodstain against porcelain.