Chapter 51: Breaking Point

Esme stood there, watching Kael and Sophia, a storm raging inside her. The way Sophia touched him, the way she whispered in his ear—it made her stomach turn. Every second of it felt like a slap to her face, a reminder of how easily Kael allowed this woman into his space. On their wedding night.

She felt invisible. Like a ghost at her own celebration.

Her hands clenched into fists at her sides, her nails digging into her palms as she struggled to contain the wave of emotions crashing inside her.

Then, across the room, her eyes locked onto Lucan.

He had been watching her, his gaze steady, knowing. He could see everything—the betrayal, the hurt, the rising fire in her veins. Esme didn't need to say a word. Her eyes pleaded for him to help her, to play Kael's game right back at him.

Lucan didn't hesitate.

With effortless grace, he made his way through the crowd, never breaking eye contact with Esme. He took her hand gently, lifting it to his lips, pressing a slow, deliberate kiss to her knuckles. A silent promise. A bold move.

Esme let him guide her onto the dance floor, allowing herself to melt into his embrace. She didn't care if it was reckless. If Kael could throw her aside so easily, then she would show him she wasn't just something to be discarded.

Kael saw.

And he felt it.

His gaze was locked on her, his jaw tightening, his grip on Sophia growing rigid. He wasn't looking at the woman he was dancing with anymore—his focus was entirely on Esme, on how her body moved with Lucan's, on how effortlessly they fit together.

Sophia noticed.

And she hated it.

"The way you look at her…" Sophia murmured, her voice laced with bitterness. "Are you actually taking her seriously?"

Kael didn't respond. His eyes stayed on Esme.

"You're even getting married." Sophia pressed, trying to force his attention back on her.

Still, he didn't speak.

Frustrated, Sophia leaned in closer, her voice dropping into a whisper. "I thought it was only fuck, huh?" Her nails dragged lightly down his chest, her tone sultry, desperate. "What's so special about her? I can treat you better than she ever will. I miss you, Kael. The way you handle me… the way you touch me…"

Kael's expression remained unreadable, but something dark flickered in his gaze.

Sophia's lips curled into a knowing smirk. She cupped his face with her right hand, her fingers stroking his jaw, tilting his face toward hers. She wanted everyone to see. She wanted Esme to see.

The entire room was watching now, whispering among themselves.

Esme's chest tightened.

Her breath was uneven, her pulse erratic, and before she could think—before she could rationalize—her body was already moving.

She left Lucan's arms.

She didn't know where the courage came from.

Didn't know if this was pure impulse or raw fury.

But she was done.

Esme pushed through the crowd, her heels clicking sharply against the marble floor as she stormed toward them.

Kael turned to face her, his expression blank, as if waiting for her reaction.

Good.

He was going to get one.

Esme didn't pause, didn't hesitate—she grabbed Sophia and yanked her away from Kael, the sheer force causing Sophia to stumble slightly.

And then, without thinking, without a second of restraint—

She slapped her.

The sound echoed through the silent room.

A gasp rippled through the crowd.

Sophia's head snapped to the side, her eyes wide with shock, a red imprint already blooming across her cheek.

Kael's gaze darkened.

Lucan, standing at the edge of the crowd, raised an amused brow, though even he hadn't expected this.

Sophia slowly turned back to face Esme, her stunned expression morphing into something dangerous. "You hit me?" she breathed, her voice laced with disbelief and rage.

Esme's chest heaved, her hand still stinging from the impact. "Touch my husband again," she said, her voice steady but sharp, "and I won't be so kind next time."

The room fell into complete silence.

Then—

Kael smirked.

It was the only reaction he had given the entire time.

And it sent a chill down Esme's spine. 'He really is insane'.

****. ****. ****.