Gold Dust and Ruins

Gold Dust and Ruins
The crowd now wasn’t just shocked—they were furious, repulsed, captivated.

Skylar leaned close, her voice a venomous whisper that only Evelyn could hear:

“You brought scissors to cut my dress… but you cut your own future instead.”

Evelyn stumbled back, her face ghost-white, as the final video played—her tangled with Zack in that hotel room, exposed for all to see. Phones were already out, flashes blinding. Reporters swarmed like a pack of wolves, hounding her with questions.

“Miss Nelson, is this why you sabotaged the designs?”

“Is this your definition of loyalty to the Scotts?”

“Is your engagement to Zack also part of your dirty PR plan?”

She clawed her way through the chaos, covering her face, but there was no escape. Her perfect mask had shattered, and the world was watching her burn.

William’s jaw locked. His fists clenched so tightly his knuckles whitened. Blood pounded in his ears.

This wasn’t just a betrayal. This was a war.

Across the stage, Zack stared at the footage—face drained, body rigid. The mask had slipped. His shame was raw.

And then their eyes met.

William’s were burning coals. Zack flickered with fear.

“You piece of—” William growled and lunged.

But Zack bolted—ducking the stage, shielding his face with both hands as reporters and cameras chased him, their flashes a frenzy of white-hot light.

“Mr. Zack! Any commepnt?”

“Is your engagement to Eva Scott fake?”

“Is this how you treat your fiancée’s family?”

William was two steps behind, muscles coiled, murder in his stride—until a firm hand gripped his wrist.

“William, no—wait,” Skylar said quickly, holding him back.

“Wait?” William’s voice was gravel, low and seething. “That bastard humiliated my sister. In front of the world. And you’re asking me to wait?”

“He’s a bloody scumbag, I know,” Skylar replied. “But he just exposed himself. On tape. In front of the world. Eva’s safe now. That’s what matters.”

William halted, breathing like a bull ready to charge. His eyes flicked back to the screen, now frozen on Evelyn hiding her face from media op. The hall was a circus of chaos, gasps, and shame.

And yet... Skylar was right.

Eva didn’t deserve this, but at least now she wouldn’t end up married to that snake.

William let out a long, shaking breath. “He’s lucky he ran.”

Skylar nodded. “He saved his face… barely.”

William turned to her, his eyes still fierce but grounded. “Let’s get out of here,” he said, then slipped his fingers through hers.

She gave his hand a gentle squeeze.

Together, they walked out, leaving the storm behind them.

William yanked the door open and got in without a word. Bang. The slam echoed like thunder in the tense night air.

Skylar followed, quietly slipping into the passenger seat.

The engine hummed to life, but the air inside was anything but calm.

William’s fingers tapped against the steering wheel, sharp and restless. His mouth was set in a grim line, a muscle ticking near his temple. Fury rolled off him in waves, thick as smoke.

"William muttered, “I still can’t believe Grandma ever thought he was right for Eva. She must be shattered after seeing all that.”

Skylar gently squeezed his hand. “Sometimes love or trust makes us overlook the cracks… even when they’re right in front of us.”

William let out a harsh breath and leaned back. “I should’ve broken his nose the moment I saw that damn video.”

“You wanted to,” she murmured. “You were shaking.”

His head snapped toward her. “Wait—how the hell did you even get that footage?”

Skylar hesitated, her eyes fixed on the windshield. “That night,” she began, “when Zack and Evelyn dropped the bomb about our contract marriage to your grandma... you took me to the Grand Riviera to calm down. Remember?”

William gave a slow nod.

“You handed me the key card and told me to go up first while you were exchanging words with a client,” she continued. “As I was walking to the room, I dropped some things in the hallway—right outside Room 711.”

Her voice lowered. “While picking them up, I heard sounds from inside. Evelyn... Zack. Not just voices. Laughter. Moaning. And curiosity got the better of me.”

She finally turned to look at him, unapologetic. “I used some trick to make the bellboy open the door. I didn’t force anything. I looked in—and saw everything. Them. Together. Like it was some damn honeymoon.”

William’s eyes darkened. “You filmed it?”

“I did,” she said flatly. “I didn’t plan on using it. I even tried to forget I had it. But today—when she dragged Marc into her web of lies and smeared my work—I couldn’t stay silent anymore. She crossed the line.”

William rubbed his temples, trying to process the full weight of what she’d done.

“I didn’t mean to throw Eva under the bus,” Skylar added, her voice quieter now. “Maybe I was too brutal—”

“No.” William pulled her into a half-embrace, his voice steel wrapped in velvet. “You weren’t. Eva’s a big girl. She chose that bastard. She was blind to him, and she had to learn the hard way. You didn’t ruin anything—you just ripped the blindfold off.”

Skylar let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding.

“Besides,” he smirked faintly, “the way you timed that last reveal? Savage. Remind me never to get on your bad side.”

She chuckled, her head resting on his shoulder.

“Too late for that, Mr. Scott. You married me.”

William glanced sideways, the tension finally easing from his body. “Yeah... and damn, I’d do it again.”

He leaned closer, suddenly closing the distance between them. Skylar stilled, her breath catching as her lashes fluttered shut.

“What are you doing?” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, laced with a nervous edge.

He paused, lips hovering just a breath away from her cheek—then with a soft click, the seatbelt slid into place.

Her eyes flew open.

“Securing your safety, Mrs. Scott,” he said with a smirk, settling back into his seat.

Skylar fumbled with her hands, avoiding his eyes. “Oh… right.”

But William was already watching her, grinning. “You thought I was about to kiss you, didn’t you?”

Her jaw dropped. “No! I– I didn’t!”

“Really?” He smirked, putting the car in drive. “Because your face is screaming ‘kiss me, William’. If I stare any longer, I’ll go blind from that blush.”

Skylar turned to the window, but her reflection gave her away—cheeks flushed pink, lips pressed tight to suppress a smile.

He glanced at her sideways. “You were totally hoping for a kiss.”

“I was not!”

“You were practically leaning in.”

“I was bracing for impact!”

“That’s what they all say when they're expecting magic.”

“You’re impossible.”

He grinned. “And yet… you married me.”

She shook her head, laughing softly under her breath. “Unfortunately.”

“Fortunately for you,” he quipped. “Otherwise who would’ve been here to torment you with seatbelts and seductive smirks?”

She slapped his arm playfully. “I should’ve chosen exile.”

“Too late. You’re stuck with me now, sweetheart. But don’t worry. If you’re good tonight… I might give you exactly what you were imagining.”

“William!”

He laughed, the sound light and genuine as the car glided into the street—leaving behind a mess of scandal, yes, but carrying something better: a spark that was finally allowed to breathe.

A few minutes passed in warm silence, the teasing ebbing into something quieter—something more tender. Skylar watched the city lights blur past, then narrowed her eyes.

“Wait a minute…” She turned to him. “This isn’t the way home.”

William didn’t miss a beat. “Good observation.”

“Where are we going?”

He smirked, eyes on the road. “To celebrate. You, Miss Green, just silenced an empire in heels and attitude. You deserve more than just dinner at home.”

Her heart fluttered. “Why are you being so... nice?”

“Because I love you,” he said simply. “And because tonight reminded me just how strong and brilliant you really are.”

Her breath caught, but she masked it with a half-smile. “You’re just buttering me up so I’ll share my champagne.”

He leaned closer. “If buttering you up involves telling the truth, I’ll gladly do it all night.”

They arrived at the rooftop lounge—warm lights, low jazz, an open skyline glittering above them.

“Wow,” she whispered.

He guided her in, hand on her lower back. “Private reservation. Just us. You deserve to celebrate without cameras, chaos, or... Nelson tantrums.”

They sat near the edge, city lights stretching beneath them. Champagne was poured, strawberries dipped in chocolate arrived, and a soft breeze teased her curls.

William watched her as she leaned on the table, eyes half-lidded in contentment. “You’re staring,” she teased.

“Can you blame me?” he said. “You’re glowing. Like... more than usual.”

She blushed, looked away. “Stop it.”

He leaned in. “No. Not tonight. Tonight, I want to say what I’ve been holding back. That I’m proud of you. That I saw Lumina in you before anyone else did. That I’m lucky you’re still here.”

She looked at him, voice soft. “I’m here because... a part of me never stopped wanting you to look at me like this.”

His throat tightened. He stood and offered his hand. “Dance with me.”

“There’s no music,” she whispered.

He pulled her into his arms. “I hear enough.”

They swayed under the stars—her head on his chest, his hand tracing slow circles on her back.

“You make me feel like I’m enough,” she murmured.

“You’ve always been more than enough,” he said, pressing a kiss to her hair.