Chapter 6: The Devil's Gala

Emerald stood in front of the mirror, staring at the elegant black evening gown laid across her bed.

For nearly twenty minutes, she debated whether she should wear it.

She had promised herself never to let Achilles Valencian pull her back into his world.

Yet here she was...

Preparing for his charity gala.

"This is only business," she reminded herself.

"I'm going to hear whatever he wants to say, and then I'll leave."

She slipped into the gown and tied her chestnut hair into a graceful low bun.

Unlike the insecure girl she had once been, she didn't wear heavy makeup anymore.

She no longer wanted to look like anyone else.

She wanted to look like Emerald.

When she reached downstairs, her mother smiled proudly.

"You look beautiful, sweetheart."

"Thank you, Mom."

"Are you nervous?"

"Not really."

Another lie.

Her heart had been racing ever since she'd accepted the invitation.

Outside, a luxury Rolls-Royce waited.

"Miss Hutton," the chauffeur greeted respectfully.

"Mr. Valencian sent me."

Emerald frowned.

"He didn't have to."

"His instructions were very clear, ma'am."

"You are his honored guest tonight."

Reluctantly, she entered the car.

Forty minutes later, the vehicle stopped before the magnificent Valencian Grand Hotel.

The twenty-story building glowed beneath thousands of golden lights.

Luxury cars lined both sides of the entrance.

Photographers crowded the red carpet.

Business leaders, celebrities, politicians, and international investors filled the venue.

"Welcome to the Valencian Charity Gala," an employee greeted.

Emerald stepped inside.

Crystal chandeliers sparkled overhead.

A live orchestra played softly in the ballroom.

The atmosphere reflected nothing but wealth and elegance.

"Miss Emerald Hutton has arrived," someone announced.

Several guests immediately turned toward her.

"Isn't that Richard Hutton's daughter?"

"She graduated from New York with honors."

"I've heard she's incredibly talented."

Ignoring the whispers, Emerald continued walking.

"I wasn't sure you'd come."

She stopped.

Achilles stood only a few feet away.

Tonight he wore a perfectly tailored midnight-blue tuxedo.

His storm-grey eyes held an emotion she couldn't identify.

"I almost didn't," Emerald admitted honestly.

"But you came anyway."

"Only because I have questions."

"Good."

"Because I owe you answers."

Before she could respond, another guest approached.

"Mr. Valencian, the investors from London have arrived."

"I'll be there shortly."

Achilles nodded before turning back to Emerald.

"Would you do me one favor?"

"Depends."

"Stay until the first dance."

"Why?"

"Because after that... I'll tell you everything."

His serious tone caught her attention.

"Fine."

"One dance?" he asked.

"Don't push your luck."

A faint smile appeared on his face.

"Fair enough."

For the next hour, Emerald wandered around the ballroom.

Everywhere she went, people greeted her politely.

She quickly realized something.

Everyone respected Achilles.

Not because they feared him.

But because they admired him.

"Mr. Valencian funded our hospital," one doctor explained proudly.

"Without him, hundreds of children wouldn't have survived."

"He's donated millions to cancer research," another guest added.

"Last year he paid for an entire orphanage to be rebuilt," someone else said.

Emerald frowned.

This wasn't the ruthless billionaire newspapers constantly described.

Who was the real Achilles Valencian?

Suddenly, the ballroom lights dimmed.

The orchestra began playing a slow melody.

"Ladies and gentlemen," the host announced.

"Please welcome the founder of tonight's charity event... Mr. Achilles Valencian."

Thunderous applause filled the room.

Achilles stepped onto the stage.

"Good evening."

"Seven years ago, I lost someone who taught me the value of protecting what truly matters."

"Since then, I promised myself that if I couldn't change my past..."

"I would change someone else's future."

"Tonight every donation will help children receive life-saving medical treatment."

The audience erupted into applause once more.

Emerald watched him quietly.

There was sincerity in every word.

No arrogance.

No pride.

Only quiet determination.

When the speech ended, Achilles walked directly toward her.

"May I have this dance now?"

Emerald hesitated.

Dozens of cameras pointed toward them.

"It's only one dance," he reminded gently.

Taking a slow breath, she placed her hand in his.

The orchestra immediately changed melodies.

He guided her effortlessly across the dance floor.

"You've improved," Emerald admitted.

"You used to step on my feet."

Achilles chuckled softly.

"You remember that?"

"Unfortunately."

"You laughed at me for an entire week."

"You deserved it."

For a brief moment...

They both smiled.

It felt strangely familiar.

Almost like the years between them had disappeared.

"Emerald," Achilles spoke quietly.

"That night seven years ago..."

"Don't."

"Please let me finish."

"I wasn't going to kiss Tess."

Emerald's entire body froze.

"What?"

"She kissed me."

"I pushed her away seconds later."

"You didn't stay long enough to see that part."

Her breathing became uneven.

"You're lying."

"I'm not."

"Then why didn't you tell me before?"

"Because by the time I reached your house the next morning... you were already gone."

"I searched for you."

"I wrote letters."

"I even went to New York twice."

"Your father never told you?"

Emerald stared at him in complete shock.

"No..."

"He refused to tell me where you lived."

"He said you needed time."

"Seven years of time."

Before Emerald could process his words, a woman's voice interrupted them.

"Achilles!"

Both turned around.

A stunning blonde woman hurried toward them before wrapping her arms around Achilles.

"I've finally found you!"

Emerald instinctively stepped backward.

The unfamiliar woman smiled confidently.

"Aren't you going to introduce me?"

Achilles immediately removed her hands from his arm.

"Clara... not now."

Emerald's heart tightened.

Once again...

Another woman stood between them.

And once again...

The past came rushing back.