Chapter 9: The Rosegate Gala
The Rosegate Medical Pavilion had been transformed into something out of a fairy tale. Crystal chandeliers cast rainbow prisms across marble floors, while elegantly dressed guests moved through the soaring atrium like dancers in some elaborate ballet. The space hummed with wealth and influence—the kind of people who could change lives with a signature or destroy them with a whisper.
I stood at Adrian’s side in the scarlet gown he’d chosen, acutely aware of how the silk clung to every curve, how the rubies at my throat caught the light with each breath. Several men had already given me appreciative glances, while their wives assessed me with the calculating eyes of women who understood exactly what those looks meant.
“You’re perfect,” Adrian murmured against my ear, his hand possessive on the small of my back. “Every person in this room is looking at you.”
“Is that good or bad?” I whispered back.
“It’s exactly what we want.” His smile was predatory satisfaction. “Let them see what’s mine.”
The possessiveness in his voice sent the familiar heat spiraling through me, even as some distant part of my mind recoiled at being discussed like property.
“Mr. and Mrs. Thorne!” A silver-haired woman in midnight blue swept toward us, arms extended in greeting. “How wonderful to finally meet the famous new bride.”
“Mrs. Whitmore,” Adrian said smoothly, taking her offered hands. “Allow me to present my wife, Calla.”
“Enchanting,” Mrs. Whitmore declared, looking me up and down with frank appraisal. “Though I must say, you look familiar, my dear. Have we met before?”
“I don’t think so,” I said carefully. Something about her sharp eyes made me uncomfortable.
“Hmm. Well, no matter. Adrian, you must bring her to my charity luncheon next month. We simply must get to know each other better.”
As she glided away, I caught Adrian’s slight frown. “Is something wrong?”
“Not at all.” But his grip on my waist tightened slightly. “Just stay close to me tonight. Some of these people can be… overly curious.”
The next hour passed in a blur of introductions and small talk. I smiled and nodded and said all the right things, playing the part of the devoted new wife. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was being watched, studied, catalogued by eyes I couldn’t identify.
“I need some air,” I said finally, the weight of so much scrutiny becoming overwhelming.
“I’ll come with you.”
“No, it’s fine. Just a few minutes on the terrace.”
Adrian hesitated, clearly torn between his social obligations and his need to monitor my every move.
“Five minutes,” he said finally. “Then come find me.”
The terrace was blissfully quiet, with only a few other guests seeking escape from the crowd. I moved to the railing, breathing in the cool evening air and trying to center myself. The view of the city spread out below was breathtaking, but all I could think about was how different this felt from the cliffs where Alaric and I used to walk.
“Quite a view, isn’t it?”
I turned to find a man approaching—tall, attractive in that polished way that spoke of old money and older privilege. His smile was charming, but there was something in his eyes that made me take a step back.
“Yes, beautiful,” I said politely, hoping he would take the hint and leave me alone.
“You’re Adrian Thorne’s new wife.” It wasn’t a question. “The mysterious Calla who appeared out of nowhere to capture the most eligible bachelor in the city.”
“I hardly appeared out of nowhere.”
“Didn’t you?” He moved closer, invading my personal space with practiced ease. “One day Adrian was the grieving brother, the next he had a beautiful new bride. Quite the whirlwind romance.”
Something cold settled in my stomach. “I should get back inside.”
“Of course you should.” His hand caught my arm as I tried to move past him. “But first, perhaps you’d like to know what people are really saying about your marriage?”
“Let go of me.”
“They’re saying it’s very convenient, this union. Very… strategic.” His fingers tightened on my arm. “They’re wondering what you really know about your husband’s business interests.”
“Is there a problem here?”
Adrian’s voice cut through the night air like a blade. He stood in the terrace doorway, and even in the dim lighting, I could see the dangerous stillness that had settled over him.
“Adrian!” The man’s grip on my arm disappeared instantly. “Just getting acquainted with your lovely wife.”
“I can see that.” Adrian moved to my side with predatory grace, his arm sliding around my waist in a gesture that was both protective and possessive. “Calla, darling, I believe you were looking for some air. Perhaps we should take a walk in the gardens instead.”
“Actually, I was just telling your wife how much I’d like to get to know her better,” the man continued, either oblivious to or deliberately ignoring the menace radiating from Adrian. “Perhaps lunch sometime? I have so many stories about the old days—”
“David.” Adrian’s voice was silk over steel. “I think you’ve had enough to drink tonight.”
“Have I?” David’s smile turned nasty. “Or maybe I’m just sober enough to ask the right questions.”
The tension on the terrace was suddenly thick enough to cut. Other guests were beginning to notice, conversations trailing off as they sensed drama.
“You should go,” Adrian said quietly.
“Should I?” David looked between us, his expression calculating. “You know, Calla, if you ever want to know the truth about what happened to—”
He never finished the sentence. Adrian moved faster than I would have thought possible, his hand closing around David’s throat with a grip that looked casual but clearly wasn’t.
“I think you’ve said enough for one evening,” Adrian murmured, his voice pitched so low only we could hear. “In fact, I think it’s time for you to leave. Permanently.”
David’s face went pale. Whatever he saw in Adrian’s eyes made him nod quickly.
“Of course,” he gasped. “Misunderstanding. Too much champagne.”
Adrian released him, but the threat lingered in the air like smoke.
“I’ll see you to your car,” Adrian said with perfect politeness.
After they disappeared inside, I remained on the terrace, my hands shaking. The easy charm I’d grown used to had vanished completely, replaced by something cold and ruthless. This was the man who’d made that phone call in his study, who spoke of people like chess pieces to be moved or removed.
This was who Adrian really was beneath the perfect husband façade.
When he returned, his smile was warm and concerned, as if the last few minutes had never happened.
“I’m sorry about that,” he said, pulling me close. “David has a drinking problem and a tendency to make women uncomfortable. He won’t bother you again.”
“What did he mean about the truth?”
“Nothing coherent. Like I said, too much alcohol and not enough sense.” His lips brushed my temple. “Are you alright?”
I nodded, though I wasn’t sure that was true. “Can we go back inside? I’m getting cold.”
“Of course.”
As we made our way back into the warmth and light of the gala, I tried to shake off the encounter. But David’s words echoed in my mind: if you ever want to know the truth about what happened to—
What happened to whom? Alaric? Someone else?
The evening continued around us, but I felt detached from it all, going through the motions of conversation while my mind raced. Who was David, and what did he think he knew?
It wasn’t until we were making our final rounds of goodbyes that it happened.
We were near the main reception desk when I heard two nurses talking in low voices.
“—still can’t believe they let her out of recovery so quickly after twins—”
“—unusual procedure, but Dr. Hayes insisted—”
“—never seen anything like it. —”
The words hit me like physical blows. Twins. Emergency surgery.
The world tilted sideways, and I gripped Adrian’s arm to keep from falling.
“Calla? What’s wrong?”
I stared at the nurses, my mouth opening and closing soundlessly. They were talking about me. About my surgery. About babies—plural.
“I think I’m going to be sick,” I whispered.
It wasn’t entirely a lie. My stomach was churning, my vision blurring at the edges.