The annual Blackwell Charity Gala was not about charity.
It was about power.
Crystal chandeliers reflected wealth, cameras flashed without mercy, and every smile in the room hid an agenda. CEOs, politicians, heirs—everyone wanted a moment near Adrian Blackwell.
Ira stood beside a marble pillar, wearing a soft silver dress. Elegant, simple, nothing loud.
Yet eyes followed her.
She felt it.
Whispers floated again.
“Isn’t she Sinclair’s heiress?”
“She’s always near Blackwell.”
“Do you think—?”
She kept her posture calm, hands folded, breathing steady.
Across the hall, Adrian was surrounded.
Investors. Media. Smiling faces he didn’t trust.
And then—
He saw Lena step toward Ira.
Too confidently.
“Ms. Sinclair,” Lena said with a sweet smile that didn’t reach her eyes, “you look lovely tonight. I didn’t know you were attending as… what exactly?”
Ira met her gaze. “As a guest.”
Lena laughed lightly. “Of course. Though people might misunderstand. Standing alone, attracting attention—it can look… desperate.”
A pause.
Ira’s fingers tightened slightly, but her voice stayed gentle.
“I’m comfortable.”
“That’s good,” Lena leaned in, lowering her voice. “Because Mr. Blackwell doesn’t like complications. Especially women who imagine importance.”
The word imagine stung.
Before Ira could respond—
A shadow fell between them.
“Step back.”
The voice was calm.
Deadly calm.
Lena stiffened.
Adrian Blackwell stood there, eyes cold, hand already resting lightly at the small of Ira’s back.
The contact was brief.
Intentional.
The room noticed.
“I—I was just talking,” Lena said quickly.
Adrian didn’t look at her.
He looked at Ira.
“Are you alright?”
Every conversation nearby slowed.
Phones lowered.
Eyes widened.
Ira nodded, surprised. “I’m fine.”
Only then did Adrian turn to Lena.
“My wife doesn’t need your commentary.”
Silence.
Not quiet.
Shocked.
“My… what?” someone whispered.
Lena’s face drained of color. “Sir—you never said—”
“I don’t announce what’s mine,” Adrian said flatly.
“But I do protect it.”
He took Ira’s hand.
Not tight.
Not rushed.
Certain.
Gasps rippled through the hall.
Ira’s heart raced—not from fear, but from the way his thumb brushed her knuckles, grounding her.
“Adrian,” she whispered, “the media—”
“Let them look,” he replied softly. “I’m done hiding you.”
He turned to the crowd, voice steady.
“This is Ira Blackwell. My wife. And the only person here who doesn’t need to prove her worth.”
Cameras flashed wildly.
Lena stepped back, humiliated.
Adrian leaned slightly toward Ira, voice low—just for her.
“You don’t stand alone anymore.”
Ira looked up at him, emotions flooding her eyes.
For the first time, the world saw what had always been true—
The ruthless CEO didn’t bow to anyone.
Except the woman holding his hand.
And jealousy?
Jealousy had finally chosen a side.
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Hello Cuties let's guys guess what's in the next part
1- Jealous male lead
2- Jealous female lead
3- A fight between our male and female lead
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