The event was everything the city had whispered: grand, seductive, and powerful. But beneath its shimmering lights and grandeur, it was laced with silent threats.
Power oozed from every angle; the ballroom steamed with tailored laughter and masked smiles.
Guests toasted with politeness, yet hidden weapons lay in wait in secret.
It was grand. Shining chandeliers lit the room like golden rain, and the marble floors clicked with every calculated step.
Kabir and Donovan arrived just in time. The media was ready—and so was the red carpet. They stepped on it, one cold and the other dangerous. No one dared utter the wrong words or ask the wrong questions.
Donovan had an impeccable reputation as the nation's playboy, but by his brother's side, he was nothing less than an ascended angel—divine and pure.
As they made their way in, eyes turned, whispers echoed, and lips parted—but neither turned. They were not there to be seen but to strike."
