The ballroom sparkled with crystals, chandeliers, and a hundred glittering guests pretending to care about the cause they funded with wine-stained money. Zane didn't touch his drink. He stood near the outer wall in an impeccably tailored suit, expression unreadable. But he was watching. Julian stood with Luna by his side while you remained alone on the other side of the room—dressed like every man's dream and every woman's threat, still smiling, still surviving. Zane could see the cracks beneath your eyes. He had heard the whispers before they even reached your ears. "The jealous wife.""The poor scholarship girl.""Luna's so respectful... it must be hard being overshadowed by someone so young, so bright.""Of course Mrs. Hartt feels insecure." Zane had read every post and tracked every thread. He knew exactly which PR agency Luna's handler paid off. He clenched his jaw when he saw Luna break from Julian's side and make her way toward you. Zane shifted, one step forward. Not yet. Luna smiled—a soft, sweet, weaponized smile. Without warning, she bumped into you. The wine glass in your hand tipped, spilling deep red liquid across Luna's designer dress. Gasps rippled through the crowd. Luna clutched her chest, eyes wide, voice rising like a siren: "Oh my God, did you see that? Miss Hartt just threw wine on me! How could she!" Heads turned sharply. Whispers flared. Zane's gaze snapped to Luna. Silence dropped. Without hesitation, he grabbed his own glass. The crowd blinked as Zane's eyes locked on hers. Luna's smile faltered when she saw him approaching. Zane stepped forward smoothly, blocking the path between Luna and you. His presence alone quieted the room. He fixed his sharp gaze on Luna, voice low and measured: "Are you sure Miss Hartt threw wine on you? Because I'm fairly certain what you're calling 'throwing' is a very poor imitation." A faint, almost amused smile touched his lips as he lifted his own glass. "Allow me to demonstrate." With deliberate precision, he flung the wine across Luna's dress. The liquid splashed with satisfying finality. "See? This is what throwing wine looks like." The crowd held its breath. Luna's face paled beneath the deep red stain. Her lip trembled before tears welled up and spilled down her cheeks. She sobbed, voice shaking: "How could he—? This isn't fair!" She stumbled back, clutching at her dress as if the stain were a cruel wound. Whispers rippled through the room—some shocked, others skeptical. Julian pushed through the gathering crowd, eyes darting between Luna and Zane. "What's going on here?" he demanded, voice tight but controlled. Zane didn't turn. His stance remained solid beside you. "Luna decided to accuse without cause. I simply corrected the misunderstanding." Julian's gaze flicked to you, who stood quietly, eyes steady but distant. The tension in the room thickened, the game far from over. Julian's eyes locked onto you, voice low but demanding: "Is this true? Did you throw wine on Luna?"