Chapter 2 - THE MASK IN THE BALLROOM
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My knees trembled as I stepped away from the cracked door, taking three slow, deliberate breaths to force the terror back into the dark corners of my mind. I couldn't afford to break down. One emotional scene in front of three hundred influential witnesses—politicians, judges, and press—would become the first piece of evidence Dominic needed to prove I was unstable.
I walked back into the grand ballroom, adjusting the emerald satin of my maternity gown. The room smelled of expensive lilies, champagne, and power.
Dominic emerged from the library moments later, his tailored tuxedo fitting his broad shoulders perfectly. When his dark eyes locked onto mine, he smiled—that smooth, practiced smile that had swept me off my feet three years ago in Brooklyn.
“There you are, darling,” Dominic murmured, gliding to my side and sliding a heavy, warm arm around my waist. He leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to my cheek for the cameras flashing near the entrance. “You look pale. Are you feeling all right?”
“I’m just a little tired, Dominic,” I replied, forcing a soft, dutiful smile onto my face.
“Of course,” he murmured, his hand settling possessively over the swell of my stomach. “You’re carrying a Callahan heir. You must take care of yourself.”
Nearby guests cooed at the sight of a devoted billionaire husband tending to his pregnant wife. I felt a sickening chill run down my spine as his thumb rubbed gentle circles against my waist.
An hour later, Dominic stood on the central stage beneath a spotlight, holding a microphone.
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“Tonight, we celebrate not just thirty years of Callahan Maritime,” Dominic announced, his commanding voice echoing over the quieted crowd, “but the future. In two months, my wife Clare and I will welcome our son into the world. He will inherit this legacy, built on loyalty, family, and honor.”
The room erupted into thunderous applause. I stood in the front row, clapping with the rest of the crowd, matching every smile, while inside, my blood turned to liquid ice.
