Chapter 162 The Gala

Chapter 162 The Gala
ZARA

I pulled the velvet fabric of my emerald gown tighter around my chest, staring at the grand, gold-trimmed double doors of the metropolitan ballroom like they were the gates of an execution chamber.

Damon had insisted I attend the annual Thorne Global executive gala. I had spent the last three days reluctantly fighting him on it, my skin still crawling from the memory of Thomas Thorne freezing the room at his twenty fifth birthday surprise. But Damon had taken my hands, looked into my eyes with an absolute desperation, and begged me to stand beside him. He wanted to show a unified front to his parents and the board. He wanted to prove that no matter how hard his family squeezed, we weren't going to break. So, I had finally relented, stepping out of the vehicle and locking my arm through his as the blinding flurry of media lenses exploded along the velvet carpet corridor.

Everything started surprisingly well. The grand ballroom was a sweeping ocean of floating crystal, champagne towers, and high society elite drifting beneath the soft orchestra chords. Damon looked devastatingly handsome in his classic black tuxedo, his posture rigid and commanding as his large hand anchored securely against the small of my back.

"You look absolutely breathtaking, baby," Damon murmured near my ear, his deep voice rich with a genuine warmth that sent a sudden flutter of butterflies straight to my stomach. "Ignore the noise. Just look at me."

"I'm looking, babe," I whispered, offering a soft smile as I took a glass of champagne from a passing waiter, trying my absolute best to swallow the tight knot of anxiety in my throat.

"Well, look who finally decided to join the adults," a sharp, venomous voice cut through our quiet bubble, shattering the peace instantly.

Iris Morgan stepped directly into our path, her gold sequined dress clinging to her frame like a second skin, her lips tilted into a slow, completely cold smile. Elias stood right beside her, his broad shoulders squared in his tuxedo. The air between the four of us turned to absolute ice.

"Iris," I said flatly, my posture instantly sharpening as I locked my eyes onto her calculated expression. "I see you're still chasing after crowns that don't belong to you."

Iris let out a low, amused laugh, her fingers trailing down the edge of Elias’s sleeve as she gave me a look of pure, unadulterated condescension. "I don't need to chase anything, Zara. Some of us naturally belong inside the room, while others are just temporary guests wearing rented velvet. Enjoy the champagne while it lasts."

"Watch your mouth, Iris," Damon growled, his hand tightening against my waist as he stepped forward, his dark eyes pitch black with a protective fury.

Elias immediately shifted his frame, blocking Damon’s line of sight with a mocking, unyielding smirk. "Easy, little brother. This is a public gala, not an asylum. Try to keep your unhinged temper under control for once. Father is watching your metrics closely today, and you really can't afford another sloppy performance."

"I can handle my project perfectly, Elias," Damon rasped, his jaw clenching so hard a muscle violently pulsed along his cheekbone. "Don't get too comfortable at my table. You're just pulling the scraps I leave behind."

"We'll see who eats the scraps by Monday morning," Elias rumbled, his tone dropping to a dangerous register before he and Iris smoothly melted back into the swarming crowd.

My heart hammered a frantic rhythm against my ribs, but before I could fully clear the static from my head, the crowd suddenly parted. Thomas Thorne marched down the center aisle of the ballroom, his commanding presence instantly freezing the nearby conversations into a tense silence. He was flanked by a group of prominent international investors and their wealthy daughters, his sharp eyes scanning the space until they locked directly onto us.

"Damon, step over here," Thomas barked coldly, completely ignoring my existence as he gestured toward a high-earning shipping magnate and his elegantly dressed daughter. "This is Mr. Sterling and his beautiful daughter Joey. Mr. Sterling here, wants a full strategic summary of our upcoming acquisition layout before the main dinner begins."

Damon kept his arm locked tightly around my waist, refusing to move an inch away from my side. "Mr. Sterling, this is Zara Corven."

Thomas didn't look at me, and he didn't allow the introduction to breathe. He smoothly pivoted, introducing the wealthy guests to Damon, talking right over my name as if I were nothing more than a piece of empty glass cluttering the floor.

"Your son's foresight is the talk of the regional audit, Thomas," the shipping magnate noted, checking his digital tablet before looking curiously at me. "And who is this young lady standing with him?"

The entire circle fell into an absolute, suffocating silence. Thomas Thorne slowly adjusted his cuffs, his piercing eyes locking onto my face with a cold, terrifying authority that stripped away the remaining air from my lungs. "An acquaintance," he replied smoothly, his voice carrying a sharp, clinical register that cut right through my chest like a physical strike. The public humiliation was profound, a brutal, icy execution delivered in front of the most powerful people in the city.

"She's my girlfriend," Damon immediately corrected, his voice booming across the small circle with a desperate intensity as he stepped directly into his father's space, his fists clenching tight at his sides.

Thomas let out a low, mocking laugh, a dark expression of pure disapproval taking over his features as he looked between the two of us. "We'll see for how long."

The room became painfully, narrowing awkwardly. The wealthy guests quickly cleared their throats, shifting their focus back to the port slides, while the surrounding executives stared at me with a mixture of pity and utter disdain. I couldn't breathe. The walls of the ballroom felt like they were collapsing on my head, the stinging weight of the insult burning down to my very bones. I pulled my hand out of Damon's grip, turning on my heel and marching straight toward the exit doors before the tears could spill over my eyelashes.

The drive home was plunged into a heavy, suffocating silence, the violent patter of the autumn rain slamming against the car windows.
The tears finally burned down my cheeks, thick and heavy, my breath hitching as I stared out at the blurry city avenues. The grand illusion of our escape up north had completely vanished, replaced by the terrifying reality that his family was systematically suffocating our lives.

"Zara, baby, please look at me," Damon pleaded, his deep voice cracking with a raw, breathless desperation as he kept one hand tightly gripped around the steering wheel. "I am so incredibly sorry. I didn't know he was going to pull that script in front of Sterling. I stood up to him, Zee. You know I love you."

"I know, Damon," I choked out, my voice sounding flat, completely hollowed out by the sheer weight of the fallout. "But your apologies are starting to sound repetitive."

Damon flinched as if I had struck him, a shadow of complete defeat flitting behind his dark eyes, but he refused to let the distance open between us. He reached across the console, his large hand wrapping gently over my trembling fingers. "I know they do, baby. I know I keep saying it, but I mean it. I hate that he did that to you." He squeezed my hand tightly, his dark eyes locked on the dark blacktop ahead as he let out a rough, tight exhale. "Let’s go on a date tomorrow night. Just you and me. No flashing cameras, no executives, no investors and absolutely no glaring eyes. "We will meet up at the obsidian lounge after work and i will take you somewhere entirely quiet where we can just be us. Let me make this up to you, Zara. Please."

I looked at him, seeing the profound exhaustion and raw devotion radiating from his rigid jawline. He was fighting so hard to hold onto me while his father choked out his options. "Okay," I whispered softly, giving his fingers a small, tentative squeeze back. "Tomorrow night. Just us."

He pulled the car smoothly against the limestone curb outside my parents' house, and I unbuckled my seatbelt, stepping out into the freezing night air as the rain soaked through my emerald gown. I walked up the stone steps alone, my fingers shaking as I unlocked the front door and stepped into the quiet hallway.

I leaned my back against the heavy wood, listening to the distant roar of his engine fading down the empty street, my heart feeling thoroughly fractured in the dark. I closed my eyes, the cold voice of Thomas Thorne echoing relentlessly in the silence of my mind. Damon had promised a night with no glaring eyes, but tomorrow would end, and the Thorne empire would still be waiting.

I quietly wondered, the tears freezing against my skin... will this ever change?