13
I met his gaze directly. “Mr. Zane, I’m grateful for your kindness. But I have my own path to take.”
Lucas fell silent for a moment, his expression unreadable.
After a while, he smiled–but it never touched his eyes.
“Very well. Since Elena insists on leaving, I won’t stop you.” He rose, regaining his usual elegance. “But before you go, won’t you allow me a final rehearsal?”
“I’ve prepared a dance, just for you.”
A dance? I looked at him, unease rising in my chest.
Lucas’s mind was impossible to predict. Would he really let me leave so easily?
“There’s no need, Mr. Zane, I—”
“Elena, you won’t grant me even this small request?” he interrupted, his tone firm and pressing.
I knew I had no room to refuse.
“All right.” I lowered my eyes, concealing the flicker of emotion within them.
Satisfied, he smiled and clapped his hands.
A maid entered, carrying several elegant gift boxes.
“This dress is for you. I hope it pleases you.” Lucas lifted the lid, revealing a fiery red fishtail
gown.
The color was like a blaze–molten blood, seductive and stunning.
“Beautiful,” I murmured, reaching out to accept it.
The fabric felt cool and smooth, like the skin of a snake.
That night, the ball took place.
In the vast banquet hall, crystal chandeliers gleamed while gentle waltz music drifted through
the air.
Yet only Lucas and I were there.
I wore the red fishtail gown, my long hair pinned loosely, exposing my slender neck and fine collarbones.
In the mirror, I looked like a poisonous flower in full bloom–striking and dangerous.
Lucas, in a black suit, his silver–rimmed glasses reflecting the light, looked more like a refined gentleman than a crime lord.
He extended a hand toward me. “Elena, may I have this dance?”
I placed my hand lightly in his.
We glided onto the floor, moving in sync with the music.
His hand encircled my waist, firm and possessive, as if to press me into him.
“You look stunning, Elena,” he whispered near my ear, his breath warm and teasing.
I gave no reply, only followed his steps, while silently calculating the timing of my escape. The music stopped.
13
2/2 72.2%
Lucas retrieved two glasses of wine, offering me one. “To your new life–and our meeting”
The wine shimmered crimson in the crystal glass, gleaming with allure.
I accepted the glass. As he raised him to drink, my fingers twitched slightly, releasing a touch of colorless, tasteless powder into his drink.
My movement was swift, shielded by the angle of his head and the glare of the chandelier.
“Mr. Zane,” I said, swirling the wine, a faint smile playing on my lips, “I’ll drink first.”
I feigned a sip, letting the wine touch only my lips. My eyes never left him.
He noticed nothing and downed the contents of his glass.
“Good.” He set the glass down, gaze lingering on me with admiration–though a slight haze crept into his eyes.
The drug took effect faster than I’d expected.
He frowned, as if confused, hand rising to his temple as he swayed.
“Mr. Zane, are you all right?” I asked with mock concern, my voice devoid of warmth.
He tried to speak, but only managed a faint, slurred sound. His tall frame wavered–then collapsed onto the sofa, unconscious.
I set down my glass, looking at his sleeping face without the slightest emotion.
“Thank you for your hospitality, Mr. Zane.”
Without hesitation, I turned, lifted my skirt, and disappeared into the night–fleeing the gilded cage that had held me captive for so long.
The sea breeze swept past, thick with salt and damp air, carrying with it the long–forgotten scent of freedom.
