Chapter 3 - The Golden TrapThe Friday night gala at the Mandarin Oriental was a glittering exhibition of New York’s high society. Crystal chandeliers reflected the glittering lights of Central Park below, and the air was thick with the scent of white roses, expensive perfume, and whispered gossip.
When the double doors opened and Kian Han stepped inside, the entire room seemed to hold its breath.
And then they saw the woman on his arm.
Ava Whitman wore a backless, liquid-gold silk gown that clung to her curves like melted sunlight, high slits exposing silver strappy heels, her dark hair styled in sleek, cascading waves. She didn't look like a woman recovering from betrayal; she looked like a sovereign claiming her throne.
Flashbulbs popped instantly from the perimeter of the ballroom. Reporters and society columnists leaned toward one another, whispering frantically. Kian Han? The reclusive billionaire? With Ava Whitman?
Across the ballroom, standing near the champagne tower, Nathan Park froze mid-sentence.
He was dressed in his usual immaculate tuxedo, with Lila hanging tightly onto his arm in a pastel pink dress that looked childishly plain next to Ava’s striking elegance. Nathan’s family, Park Atlantic Holdings, had managed to secure a late invitation through secondary connections, hoping to mingle with the city's elite.
Nathan’s glass nearly slipped from his fingers. His face turned the color of ash.
"Is that... is that Ava?" Lila whispered, her voice tightening with a mixture of shock and incandescent jealousy. "How is she here with Kian Han? Han Global doesn't even return Park Atlantic's calls!"
Nathan didn't answer. He watched, paralyzed, as Kian Han walked Ava directly through the center of the room, his hand resting securely and possessively at the small of her back—a touch that radiated absolute authority.
Kian stopped near the VIP terrace, catching Nathan and Lila in his peripheral vision. He leaned down, his lips brushing near Ava’s ear. "It seems your ex and his little trophy are choking on their canapés, sweetheart."
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Ava turned her head slightly, her gaze locking onto Nathan across the room. She didn't look angry. She looked entirely, devastatingly indifferent. She raised her champagne flute toward Nathan in a silent, mocking toast.
Nathan felt the floor drop out from under him. The man standing beside Ava—the titan who controlled billions in Asian shipping and real estate—wasn't just a business associate. He looked at Ava with a fierce, burning protectiveness that Nathan had never possessed, never understood, and certainly never deserved.
