Chapter 3

"The city hasn't changed." Rielle noticed. "So has the people in it,"

Not the skyline. Not the scent of ambition coiled in the air like expensive perfume. Not even the sickening smell from the people who tried to tear down each other, but smiled at themselves.

Rielle stepped out of the car in a black silk gown that kissed the ground with every step. Her heels struck the marble entrance of the Whitmore Hotel with the confidence of a queen reclaiming her throne.

Standing at a full height of 5' 10, she commanded more attention than she should. Especially with a face as elegant as her new one.

Paparazzi lights flared. They didn't know her name, yet they took pictures. They believed whoever uses this hotel would be someone very important to the society.

Well, they would know her name soon. On the other hand, she didn't come to be seen. She came to be remembered.

Inside, the annual Whitmore Charity Gala was already in full motion. High society buzzed with media moguls, tech giants, political legacies, multimillionaires and more. Champagne flutes clinked, shallow laughter filled the air, and at the center of it all was Cleo Jung.

Still flawless.

Still worshipped.

Still the same wolf behind a painted smile.

Rielle didn't look at her. Not yet.

Instead, she walked past the crowd, past the curious stares and half-formed questions. Her eyes locked on her mark.

Evan Maddox.

Her ex. The man who said she was sweet, but forgettable. He even said she was good enough to be lusted over, but not good enough to love.

He stood by the bar, a drink in hand, as he murmured something into a model's ear.

Rielle didn't pause.

She approached them, smooth as silk, with a smile soft as sin.

"Excuse me," she greeted, her voice sharp like glass.

Evan turned, and his glass slipped from his hand.

Time stopped.

He stared, confused. Disoriented.

"Lina?" he breathed.

She tilted her head slightly. "Do I know you?"

The surgery was there. It only enhanced her features to be more beautiful and appealing. But if one take a closer look, especially from the shape of her eyes, one might recognize her.

A slow, practiced smirk tugged at her lips. She watched him flounder, watched the confusion morph into disbelief. Then something else.

"Oh, sorry," he apologised. "I'm sorry I compared you to that ugly ogre." He stretched out his hand for a handshake. "I'm Evan, heir to an_"

Rielle cut him off, disgusted he still introduced himself that way after the time that passed. "I know who you are," She leaned in, whispering low in his ear, "We could meet some other time. I got business to do today,"

Across the room, in the shadows of the balcony overlooking the ballroom, dark eyes remained fixed on her without blinking.

Xander Lin watched.

One hand rested in his pocket. The other held a cigarette he never lit. His eyes followed her every move with an unreadable expression.

However, when Evan began to follow Rielle through the crowd, Xander's jaw ticked immediately. The action was not enough to get an expression out of him, but there was a shift in his stony expression.

That was enough.

His presence shifted the energy in the ballroom, even from where he stood. He couldn't tell what this woman has on him, but she does have something on him.

Rielle felt it.

She turned briefly, and met his eyes across the distance.

Just for a second, and then her breath hitched. She turned away from him, and faced forward again, reclaiming the night.

Why was he even here?

....

In the powder room, Cleo Jung fixed her lipstick.

Her assistant whispered, "That woman… the one in the black gown. She has no press ID. She's not even on the guest list."

Cleo's eyes narrowed.

"She's not just someone," her assistant added. "She made Maddox drop his glass. He looked like he saw a ghost."

Cleo capped her lipstick. "Find out who she is."

"And if she's nobody?"

"She won't be for long," Cleo said coldly. "And I don't like surprises."

Her assistant nodded. "Don't worry, no one can outshine you in the fashion world."

Cleo let out a soft breath. She had been waiting for those words all night. "Where's Liam? Tell him I need him here now,"

Half an hour into the gala, Rielle's assistance came up beside her while she stood at one end, and supervised the place.

"Xander said we should get going now," her assistance reported.

"Okay," Rielle accepted without asking questions. She hadn't seen Liam or her father around, but she also wanted to leave this place.

Outside, Rielle held on to her grace as she walked into the waiting car under the watch of a hundred cameras. Rielle exhaled only when the door shut behind her.

The adrenaline hadn't worn off, and she clenched her fists together. Her heart jumped into her stomach when she saw Xander seated beside her.

First, she hasn't seen him for six months, and now, twice in one night.

His stare on her didn't flatter.

He remained silent and unmoving. His hand rested near hers. He didn't speak and he didn't look like he planned to. He turned away from her, and the car started moving.

She didn't speak either.

The silence between them was louder than the city outside.

Finally, she whispered, "I didn't see my father, but I saw a handful of my past offenders."

He turned his head just slightly. Just enough.

Then said, "Good."

Rielle swallowed. "Can I ask some questions?" She sighed softly. She needed to be able to ask questions before she went crazy.

If he always leaves her this confused, then it'd be no different from her past life. There must be something he wanted in return.

"Just three,"

"Great," Rielle said sarcastically. Three questions everyday won't calm her down. She needed to be informed.

Xander raised a brow at her.

"Are you married?" The question left her lips before she would stop it.

"I'm sure you don't want to waste your questions knowing about me," he replied, uninterested.

Rielle tucked a strand of her red hair behind her ear. "The questions I chose to ask shouldn't bother you. Are you married?"

Xander turned to her. He stared into her eyes deeply for five seconds, before his gaze dropped down to her lips. The intensity of his gaze made her lips to part on their own accord.

Her breath hitched.

His voice was low, but clear. "Do I look like a man who would share?"

Her heart stopped.