The faint pink of her lower lip was marred by a deep bite mark-pretty hard to miss.

People around her started trading looks, eyes shifting with all sorts of thoughts bubbling underneath.

The mood in the room dropped a few degrees.

Some folks recognized Charisse, and plenty knew about her connection to Owen. In their eyes, someone impulsive and hot-headed like Owen was way more likely to bite his girlfriend during a makeout session than the always-composed Clayton.

So, was Elliot throwing shade at his future aunt just to embarrass her?

Charisse's heart gave a small thud. She knew full well: if she handled this wrong and made Clayton lose face, it wouldn't end well for her.

"Oh yeah?" Clayton tilted her face up by the chin. "Let me take a look."

He said it with a smile, but there was a silent chill lurking in his gaze-the kind that came naturally from someone who'd spent years calling the shots.

Color rushed to Charisse's cheeks. She playfully smacked his chest and muttered under her breath with a pout, "You're the one to talk."

Just a few soft-spoken words, paired with that shy look of hers, made everything crystal clear. No guessing needed-everyone immediately caught on to who was responsible for that mark.

The tension in the room dissolved in a heartbeat. Laughter rippled through the crowd.

Seeing Clayton chuckle too, Charisse knew he was pleased with her response.

She turned to Elliot with a polite smile, "So, do I need to report our private matters to you in detail, Mr. Grant?"

His cool gaze slid over her face, picking up on her subtle challenge.

He gave a dry laugh. "No need."

This was Clayton's party, and Charisse had no choice but to stick close to him while wave after wave of people came up to toast.

Thankfully, with someone like Clayton, drinking wasn't mandatory. Lots toasted him out of courtesy, but he only actually drank from a select few. Naturally, no one dared push Charisse to drink either.

Still, plenty of people noticed the mark on her lip and couldn't help but think-this young woman might look sweet, but clearly she's got moves. Even someone as calm and controlled as Clayton lost his cool.

Others were more blunt: Clayton must really like her if he's willing to go public with their engagement like that. Whatever strategy she used, it worked damn well.

Soon, the judgmental glances softened into ones of admiration or even flattery. The vibe shifted.

"Come on, have a drink with Elliot," Clayton said to Charisse, the words casual but meaningful. "He's one of the best from the younger generation in our family."

Charisse smiled politely, raising two glasses and offering one to Elliot. "I can tell. Mr. Grant definitely stands out."

She added with flawless poise, "Here's to you."She leaned half against Clayton, lips curved in a bright, radiant smile like she was genuinely having the time of her life.

What was she so cheerful about, huh? Feeling smug 'cause she landed someone like Clayton?

Elliot swept a lazy glance at Clayton's hand resting on her waist. Then his long fingers flicked, brushing away Charisse's hand. Her wine glass tumbled from her grasp and crashed to the floor, a crisp shatter slicing through the noise-but still not as cold as his voice.

"Toasting me? You're not there yet. Save it for when you actually marry Clayton."

The crowd around them collectively held their breath. Really, Elliot didn't bother to save her any face-first the stunt with mentioning that bite mark, now knocking her glass? Dude clearly couldn't stand the soon-to-be aunt.

Everyone was silently cringing for Charisse. If they were her, they'd be looking for the nearest escape hatch.

But she? Not even a twitch of embarrassment. That poised, perfectly appropriate smile stayed locked on her face like nothing had happened. She downed the rest of her wine without missing a beat, graceful as ever.

"I'll make sure you're not kept waiting too long, Mr. Grant," she said with a lift of her brows.

Then she gave a light nod, her tone cool but confident. "When that day comes, I trust you'll know how to show a little courtesy to me, your new aunt."

Elliot narrowed his eyes at her. A low chuckle slipped out, deep and unreadable.

"Sure," he said slowly, "just hope you've got what it takes to last till that point."

"I'll make sure of it." Her chin stayed high, neck straight like a swan-elegant and unshaken.

With that, Elliot left, disappearing into the crowd. Clayton was soon pulled away by someone, leaving Charisse alone.

She didn't know anyone else here. So she quietly picked a quieter corner and walked over to sit down.

Not far away, a group of women were chatting-though calling it gossip would be more accurate. Charisse didn't need to listen in to know what they were saying. You could guess with your eyes closed-it definitely wasn't good.

"Looks like that Elliot guy wants nothing to do with his new aunt-to-be."

"Can you blame him? She's so young hooking up with someone like Clayton-it's gotta be for the money, right? With women like that digging for her uncle's cash, why would Elliot be nice to her?"

"Still, he's the junior here. If Clayton's set on marrying her, Elliot being rude won't change much. Nephew or not, he doesn't get a vote."

"What about Victoria Davis though? She acts like she's already Mrs. Ellis. Didn't she just deal with that wannabe influencer around Clayton last month? Word is, the body they fished out of the river yesterday? That was her handiwork. Swollen beyond recognition."

"Shhh-don't talk about that here, that's creepy."

"So... how long till Victoria decides to come after this new girl?"

"My guess? She already knows and is probably on her way here as we speak."

Charisse's phone suddenly rang. She glanced at the caller ID, paused for a beat, then stepped out of the hall to pick it up.

"Owen."

"Charisse, where are you right now?"

"Midnight Bloom."

"With who?"

Standing by the window, Charisse looked out at the pitch-black sky. "Owen, can you not pretend you don't know?"

Someone at the party who knew both of them must've tipped Owen off. That's the only reason he would've called.

"So it's really Clayton?" Owen's voice cracked with disbelief. "You're into *him*?"

She'd already used this as her excuse when they broke up, so now she had to stick with it. "Yeah."

"No way. Do you even know who he is? What he does? He's over fifty!"

"I know." Her voice came out almost numb, detached. "He might be older, but he's got charm, money, and power. Being with him? It's a serious upgrade."

Not far from her, on the other side of a wall, there was a barely-seeable hidden door that led into a narrow corridor.

A small group approached from the other end. The guy up front reached for the door, but Elliot gave him a sharp glance and he stopped instantly.

"Leave," Elliot said quietly.

Without asking questions, they nodded and turned back the way they came.

Elliot leaned against the wall and lit up a cigarette.

Between the hidden door and the wall, there was a paper-thin gap-just wide enough for a voice to travel through.

Through it came Charisse's cool, overly cheerful tone.

"Of course I'm with him because I like him. He's everything you weren't, he's successful, he commands respect, and hello-he's loaded big time."

"He's over fifty, but he knows how to treat a woman. Not at all like what people say about him. "

On the other end, Owen sounded like he'd just gotten hit by a truck. "And me? What am I to you?"

"You?" Charisse laughed, voice laced with mockery. "Do you even realize who he is in Draycott? And look at you-what do you have? Without your family's money, you're nobody. You think you can compete with him?"

"But do you get what being with him really means?" Owen shot back. "You're gonna have a rough ride. Do you even know the kind of people he surrounds himself with?""If I like him, I don't care what gets thrown at me. No matter how many people try to make things hard, I'd still choose to be with him."

"Charisse, is Clayton forcing you? Just tell me, I'll go find him right now! Don't worry, I've got your back!"

These were the exact words Charisse feared hearing most from Owen.

"No, he didn't force me. I made the choice myself. Owen, seriously, get a grip. You're nowhere near his level. If you're smart, you'll stop reaching out to me. Don't ruin my chances with someone better."

Charisse almost couldn't believe those cold, hard words had come out of her mouth-especially directed at someone like Owen, who'd treated her so well.

But there was no other way.

On the other end, Owen's voice got lower and shakier till it cracked completely.

Charisse felt a deep ache in her chest. She didn't want to be cruel. But if she didn't draw the line sharply, Owen would just keep clinging on, maybe even do something reckless.

If he crossed Clayton... that would be a disaster.

Her eyes suddenly caught something downstairs-a group of men forcing others into vehicles. The ones being shoved were clearly resisting, but then one got struck hard on the leg with an iron bar. His leg twisted in a way that just wasn't natural.

He collapsed instantly, thrown into the car like he was trash.

Behind them, a few others tossed in two black body bags before several cars revved up and sped off.

Charisse froze. Cold sweat covered her. Those were Clayton's men. One of them was the same guy who'd picked her up at the hotel earlier.

She clenched her jaw, voice icier than before. "Since we're already over, don't bother me again. My fiancé won't appreciate it."

Click. She ended the call.

Gripping the windowsill, Charisse took a few deep breaths, trying to erase that gruesome scene from her mind.

As she turned around, a sudden figure behind her made her flinch.

A cigarette ember glowed faintly at Elliot's fingertips as he stared at her with unreadable intensity.

"Charisse," he called out just as she passed by.

"Is your love really that easy to hand out now?" His tone was sharp. "So as long as it's a guy, you're ready to fall?"

"Oh, look who's got a thing for eavesdropping now."

"Didn't expect to hear something that pathetic," he scoffed. "Same old trick, huh? Using what you pulled on me to reel in someone else? Do you really think men are that easy to fool?"

The sarcasm in his eyes was blatant. His words weren't all that harsh on the surface, but every one of them went straight for the heart.

Elliot knew exactly how proud Charisse was-being talked to like this would absolutely piss her off.

He sat there waiting for her to argue back.

But she didn't. Instead, she let out a small laugh, her voice calm and unbothered. "Yeah, I fall for people pretty easily. So what?"

She raised her chin slightly. "Owen, Clayton... They've all got their own charm. Why shouldn't I like them?"

Elliot's expression turned colder, tone sharper. "You? Like someone? You just fake that affectionate crap to cozy up to powerful guys."

Back when she and Owen broke up, she'd acted all heartbroken, trying to make it seem like they had the perfect love story. And then what? She turned around and latched onto his uncle, going on and on about how wonderful he was and how much she adored him.

Yeah right-that wasn't love, that was climbing the ladder.

"Whether I'm fake or not, what's it to you, Mr. Grant?"

"Of course it's my business. He's my uncle. You think I'm gonna let just anyone with a fake smile get near him?"

"So what if he's your uncle? Clayton himself said he wanted to marry me."

"He's getting on in years. Can't really blame him for being bad at reading people. Some folks are just too good at pretending. Full of sweet talk and lies-that kind of stuff's hard to guard against."

Charisse let out a soft, almost amused laugh. "Well, maybe someone should check who's doing the 'guarding.' Some people were fooled so bad themselves, they've got no right acting all high and mighty now."

That one hit home.

The second she said it, the air between them felt like it dropped ten degrees.

"Say that again," Elliot growled, his voice low and tight, every word iced over.

Charisse pressed her lips together, clearly regretting that last bit.

Elliot wasn't who he used to be. The kind of past he had wasn't something he'd want hauled up again-not now.

But still, wasn't it him who threw the first punch? Dripping sarcasm, every word like a blade."What's wrong? Can't handle someone throwing your own words back at you, Elliot? You can dish it out, but no one's allowed to call you out?"

Elliot stepped closer, pressure rolling off him like a storm cloud. "Keep going. See what happens when you try to 'call me out'."

A warning bell rang in Charisse's mind.

She didn't want to stir up more trouble here-after all, this was Clayton's turf. Too many people around. All it'd take was one wrong glance, one wrong assumption, and she'd be in real trouble.

She tried to walk past him.

He lifted an arm, blocking her path.

She turned her head slightly, and bam, his other arm came up too.

Now she was boxed in, cornered between the wall and him. His gaze bore down on her, low voice laced with danger. "Keep going?"

Voices echoed faintly down the hallway-Clayton's was among them.

Charisse's face hardened. "Move."

Elliot didn't budge. Instead, he leaned in, the heat of his breath brushing her cheek. "If my uncle sees us like this, what do you think he'll assume? That I'm cornering you, or that you're shamelessly throwing yourself at me? Still hoping to marry up, huh?"

Her eyes snapped shut.

Whatever Clayton thought, this situation wouldn't end well.

If someone caught them like this, it'd be seen as a slap in Clayton's face.

No one got away with embarrassing Clayton.

Her whole body tensed. Elliot's smirk deepened, like he knew he had her. "I can't judge your choices? Maybe. But I sure can ruin them. Believe it?"

"Fine-I spoke out of turn, that's on me." Her voice came quick, clipped. "If that's not enough, we can talk, but not here, okay?"

Footsteps were closing in fast, voices clearer by the second.

"Nope." He glanced at her slowly, like he had all the time in the world. "Too late for sorry now."

Charisse's pulse jumped. "Elliot, you-"

"Round two of that five million." And with that, he tilted his head down and kissed her.

Charisse's brain blanked. Her chest tightened like fireworks had exploded right behind her eyes.

He's lost it. Completely.