The gala had taken a sharp turn from celebration to battlefield.The chandeliers reflected off polished marble floors, scattering light into fractured patterns across the room.Music and laughter from the band in the corner masked nothing; beneath the glamour, tension had seeped into every corner, and Adrian felt it immediately.Elara was at the center of a small cluster of guests, smiling politely, laughing lightly at a joke someone made. Her hand hovered slightly near her clutch a subtle, unconscious shield. Adrian’s gaze never left her. Right hand flexed casually at his side, fingers twitching slightly, a micro-adjustment born of instinct. Every