Alter Ego

Davin stepped closer, his presence filling the already cramped space. "I apologize for the assault," he said while his hands remained tucked firmly in his pockets.

Kathryn met his gaze head-on, her hazel eyes gleaming with a fierce, unwavering intensity. "If he ever dares to come near me again, I won't press charges," she stated, her voice cold as ice. "I will kill him."

He raised an eyebrow, his expression masked with amusement and… something else? Curiosity, perhaps? *Could this be the same woman who had stood so confidently on the stage, accepting the award? The same woman who had been laughing and chatting so effortlessly with his sister just moments ago? It was as if he were witnessing two entirely different personality inhabiting the same body* he wondered.

"Rest assured, he won't trouble you again," Davin said.

His gaze flickered, tracing the delicate curve of her cheekbones, lingering on the crimson stain of her lipstick, before drifting down the slender column of her neck. His eyes settled on her hand, noting the faint swelling around her knuckles, the subtle tremor in her fingers.

Subconsciously, his hands twitched, as if compelled to reach out and take her hand in his. But as he made a move, a fraction of an inch, towards her, Kathryn flinched, recoiling slightly.

Her voice, sharp and brittle, cut through the charged silence. "Don't touch me."

Retracting his hand as if burned, Davin shoved it back into his pocket, his expression shifting to one of studied indifference.

"You might want to get that looked at," he said, his voice cool and impersonal. "It appears to be swollen."

Glancing down at her hand, she saw the angry red marks, the throbbing swelling, and felt a fresh wave of pain surge through her fingers.

Without acknowledging him, without a single word, she turned and stalked out of the restroom, leaving Davin standing alone in the sterile silence.

Back in the ballroom, Arthur was waiting, his face etched with concern. "What took you so long?" he asked, his eyes searching hers, scanning for any sign of distress.

Kathryn was a master of control, an expert at concealing her true emotions. She forced a casual smile, hoping to allay his suspicions.

But Arthur saw through her.

"What happened to your hand?" he demanded, his voice low and dangerous. He reached out, gently taking her hand in his, his fingers brushing against the swollen knuckles. "Who did this?" A barely suppressed rage flickered in his eyes.

Sighing inwardly, Kathryn knew this was exactly what she had been trying to avoid. Arthur, with his fierce protectiveness, would stop at nothing to avenge any perceived slight against her. If she told him about Richard, he would unleash every resource at his disposal, hunting him down regardless of the consequences, regardless of who he had to cross.

"It's nothing," Kathryn said, dismissing the incident with a wave of her hand. "Let's just go."

Arthur's jaw tightened, his expression hardening. He knew when she was shutting him out, when she was using that carefully calibrated "inner voice" that brooked no argument.

Reluctantly, he let it go. For now.

As she grabbed her purse and prepared to leave, Kathryn could feel the weight of a hundred pairs of eyes on her, scrutinizing, judging, analyzing her every move.

Despite the late hour, no one seemed to have gone home yet. The opportunity to mingle with the elusive Banks family was far too tempting to resist.

She would have loved to have had the opportunity to speak with Madame Genevieve Banks, her long-time idol, to glean some wisdom from the woman who had so effortlessly conquered the business world. But she longed to do so in a more intimate, less pressurized environment, one in which she felt confident in her own abilities and knowledge, and in which she felt she had truly earned the right to be granted an audience.

Emerging from the ballroom, Kathryn couldn't resist a quick, glance back into the dimly lit depths of the room, where the titans of industry still lingered. She could feel their gazes on her, but it felt less like admiration and more like a calculating assessment.

Despite her relative youth and limited experience in the business world, Kathryn possessed a wisdom beyond her years, a sharp intuition that allowed her to see through the carefully crafted facades. These men weren't genuinely celebrating her success; they were sizing her up, trying to determine if she was a threat, an asset, or simply a flash in the pan.

Lowering her head, she quickened her pace, a sense of relief washing over her as she stepped out into the cool night air, away from the suffocating atmosphere of power and privilege.

Meanwhile, back at the Banks's table…

"What happened?" Madame Genevieve asked Davin, her voice sharp and demanding as he returned to their table.

Davin offered a brief, dismissive shrug. "Richard," he said, his tone carefully neutral.

"What did he do?" Kimberley asked, her voice laced with suspicion, her eyes narrowing as she studied her brother's face.

"Assaulted our guest," Davin said, the words precise and formal. "Star Corp's president, Kathryn Blackwood."

"Oh my God," Kimberley gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. "Is she alright?" Genuine concern was etched on her face.

Amused by her surprisingly vehement reaction, Davin couldn't resist baiting her. "A friend of yours?"

"Well, yes, you could say that," Kimberley replied, her eyes sparkling with uncharacteristic enthusiasm. "Even though we only met today, I feel like she's… a kindred spirit. A soul sister, even."

Watching her daughter's unusually ecstatic expression, Madame Genevieve found herself wanting, more than ever, to meet this intriguing young CEO.

Nothing and no one, aside from her immediate family, had ever truly impressed Kimberley. She had always been fiercely independent, a solitary spirit who guarded her heart with unwavering vigilance.

Growing up, she had rarely kept friends, dismissing most of her peers as "fakes" who were only interested in her because of her family's wealth and influence. It was a cynical, but largely accurate, assessment.

When Kimberley had announced, after graduating from university at eighteen, that she intended to pursue a career in the entertainment industry, Madame Genevieve had been overjoyed. Finally, Kimberley had found a path that allowed her to express her true self, to step out of the Banks family shadow and forge her own identity.

At least she'll be surrounded by people, and perhaps someone will finally catch her eye, Madame Genevieve had always hoped. But three years had passed since Kimberley's debut into the entertainment industry, and not a single romantic entanglement, not a single whisper of a potential suitor, had surfaced in the tabloids.

Madame Genevieve was beginning to worry about her baby girl, fearing that she might be destined for a life of solitude. If it were within her power, she would have conjured another daughter into existence, someone to share her laughter and her dreams.

But seeing Kimberley, for the very first time, openly declaring someone a "friend" filled her with a warmth that chased away the shadows of her anxieties.

I suppose greatness recognizes greatness, Madame Genevieve mused, a flicker of pride in her eyes.

"What are you going to do to him?" Sir Alexander asked Davin, his voice deceptively mild.

"Let me alone with him in a room," Kimberley spat, her voice laced with barely suppressed fury. "I'll teach that stupid ass a lesson he'll never forget – you don't touch a woman without her consent."

Kelvin chuckled, throwing an arm around her shoulders. "Calm down there, tiger."

"I'll handle it," Davin said, gently patting Kimberley's head with an affection he rarely displayed in public. Kimberley leaned into his touch, a small, contented sigh escaping her lips. Despite his often-aloof demeanor, Davin adored his younger sister.

Glancing at his wristwatch, Davin's expression hardened. "I should get going. I have a conference call at 7:00 AM tomorrow."

"Let's all go together. I'm exhausted," Madame Genevieve said, her voice betraying a hint of weariness.

Sir Alexander, his gaze never leaving his wife's face, affectionately stroked her neck. "I'll give you a massage when we get home," he murmured, his voice a low, intimate caress.

Kimberley groaned, covering her face with her hands. "Oh my God, Dad. This is neither the time nor the place!" she exclaimed, mortified by her parents' public display of affection.

"Come and sleep at the family mansion. It's closer to the company," Sir Alexander suggested to Davin, his attention still primarily focused on his wife.

After a moment of contemplation, Davin agreed. He knew it would please his parents, and the closer proximity to the office would indeed be more convenient for his early morning meeting.

With a collective sigh of agreement, the Banks family rose from their seats, their departure setting off a flurry of activity as their entourage sprang into action. After exchanging polite farewells with a select few of the prominent business leaders who had been vying for their attention all evening, the Banks family turned and walked towards the exit.