His Anonymous Invitation.

My father had married another woman barely a month after breaking off his engagement with my mother.

At the time, people whispered, speculated, even pitied my mother for losing her place beside him. But it wasn't until later—when the truth clawed its way to the surface like a rotting secret—that everyone realized she had been pregnant with me all along.

And then there was Selena's mother. She gave birth only two months after I was born. The math didn't lie.

The same people who condemned my mother as a slut conveniently ignored what that meant for Selena's mother—who had been carrying her out of wedlock at the exact same time. 

And my father? The honorable, respected Mr. Blackwood?

Untouched. Unscathed.

His sins were buried beneath wealth and power, his betrayals wrapped in silk and silence. 

No one dared to call him what he was—a liar, a cheater, a man who had walked away from the mother of his unborn child without a second thought.

And, of course, the Blackwoods would never see it that way. It was easier to rewrite the story. 

To paint my mother as the villain. To make me the unwanted stain of a scandal no one wished to acknowledge.

My hands curled into fists at my sides, nails biting into my palms. If I were anyone else—anyone but me—I might have called them out. 

Thrown the truth back in their faces. But what good would it do?

To them, I would always be less than.

I forced the thought aside and turned my gaze back to Niklaus. He stood beside me, silent and unreadable, his broad frame exuding an almost unnatural calm.

What was he doing?

Why was he still here, standing so close, as if he—what?

For the first time in years, I felt something foreign stir in my chest—something I had long since buried.

Hope.

But before I could fully grasp it, Selena was there, her perfectly manicured fingers yanking me back abruptly.

"You're such a troublemaker, Hermia!" she gasped, her voice dripping with feigned concern. "How could you just fall into his arms like that? You've probably stained his jacket."

Her words were a soft purr, calculated for the audience now watching with bated breath.

And then, without missing a beat, she turned to Niklaus, her hands outstretched toward his immaculate chest. "May I help—"

"No."

The single word sliced through the air, cold and sharp as a blade.

Selena froze, her hands hovering midair.

Niklaus barely spared her a glance before locking his piercing blue eyes onto hers, his gaze freezing her in place.

"And for the record," he said, his voice like steel, "I drew her into my arms. You'd know that if you were paying the right attention."

A murmur rippled through the crowd.

Selena's face flushed crimson, her embarrassment stark against her perfect complexion. "I was only trying to—"

"Be presumptuous?" Niklaus cut in, his tone biting. "I invited her to this party," he continued, his words slicing through the murmurs.

I invited her.

The statement sent a jolt through me, my breath hitching in my throat.

He invited me?

I turned to him, my pulse hammering. How does he even know I'm back?

A week ago, an invitation had arrived—delivered by a security guard, with no sender. No explanation.

I had debated throwing it away. But in the end, I had clung to it. Used it as an excuse to escape the suffocating walls of the Blackwood estate for just one night.

And now—now I knew.

Niklaus Hathaway had sent it.

My stomach twisted, confusion gnawing at me.

"Oh my God, Niklaus himself invited her?"

"No wonder she's acting all haughty."

"Wait, when did she come back from the US? How does she even know him?"

"From the US? Maybe they met there," another voice chimed in.

I barely registered the whispers, my mind spinning.

Did I know him?

I searched my memory, scouring every corner of my past, but his face—his presence—it stirred nothing.

Yet here he was, standing beside me, claiming me as his invited guest.

The weight of their stares pressed down on me, suffocating.

I had never liked this kind of attention—not from these people.

Not in the presence of a man who could command a room with nothing but a few words.

Selena's voice rang out again, sharp with barely contained bitterness. "You invited her? When, why, and how do you even know her?"

Niklaus didn't flinch.

"That is none of your business," he said, his tone cutting. "You came here for a birthday party. That is what you should've focused on, instead of harassing another guest."

Selena opened her mouth, but Niklaus had already turned to me.

And then—his expression softened.

The shift was barely noticeable, just the faintest warmth in his voice. But to everyone watching, it was shocking.

"Are you okay, Mia?" he asked gently.

Mia.

The entire room froze.

I could feel the weight of their disbelief. The judgment. The jealousy simmering beneath the surface.

Niklaus Hathaway—the cold, ruthless man they all feared and revered—was looking at me with something dangerously close to tenderness.

The same man who graced magazines with his stoic glare, the man with zero tolerance for nonsense, had not only caught me—he was now asking if I was okay.

I straightened instinctively, every nerve on edge.

"I apologize," I said softly, my voice barely above a whisper. My eyes dropped to his chin, unable to meet the intensity of his gaze. "I didn't mean to cause such a ruckus."

"If you didn't want to cause a ruckus, you shouldn't have come in the first place," Selena interjected, her tone deceptively sweet—like a mother lightly scolding a wayward child.

Niklaus's eyes narrowed, his head tilting slightly.

"Are you saying she should have rejected my invitation?"

Selena paled.

Her mouth opened and closed, struggling for an answer. "Oh God, no! I… I mean, if she was going to be so distracting and attention-seeking, she could have politely declined. It is a birthday party, after all," she finished, her voice trembling but still laced with faux civility.

A muscle in Niklaus's jaw ticked, his irritation darkening.

And then—his gaze turned lethal.

"Who are you?" he asked abruptly.

The room tensed.

Everyone knew what that question meant.

Everyone except Selena.

She brightened, utterly oblivious, mistaking his question for interest.

"I'm Selena. Selena Blackwood," she declared proudly, lifting her chin, convinced she was about to redeem herself.