Cassius helped me out into the hallway.

It was chaos.

Seraphina was sobbing hysterically.

Damian, his tie askew, was trying to placate her while a scantily clad woman looked on with cold indifference.

Soon, Damian's parents arrived.

It didn't take a genius to figure out what had happened in that room.

Damian saw us standing there and pointed a trembling finger.

"It was them! They set me up! I was drugged! Someone put something in my drink and lured that woman into my room!"

The woman in question — a model named Vivian, who had been hired for the event — rolled her eyes with theatrical boredom.

"Sweetheart, you weren't drugged. You invited me up here yourself. Told me your fiancée was 'boring in bed' and you needed 'real entertainment.'"

She held up her phone, showing a string of text messages.

"I have receipts."

Seraphina's sobs intensified. She turned on Damian with a ferocity that surprised even me.

"You told me I was the only one! You destroyed my sister's engagement for me! And this is how you repay my loyalty?"

"Sera, baby, listen to me—"

"Don't touch me!"

Damian's mother intervened, trying to usher everyone into the room to contain the scandal. But it was too late.

Several guests had already gathered in the hallway, phones in hand, recording everything.

Cassius leaned against the wall beside me, his arms crossed, watching the spectacle with the calm detachment of a man observing chess pieces fall exactly where he'd predicted.

"Did you plan this?" I murmured.

"Plan it?" He tilted his head. "I simply made sure the right people were in the right place at the right time. Damian did the rest himself."

"The model?"

"Vivian is an old friend. She was happy to attend the party as a guest. What happened after that was entirely Damian's doing."

I looked at him — really looked at him.

"You're ruthless."

"I learned from the best," he said, his eyes meeting mine. "Survival in the Mantel family requires it."

Below us, the damage was spreading like wildfire.

Damian's indiscretion at the engagement party — my engagement party — was the ultimate slap in the face to both the Mantel and Thorne families.

Grandpa Orson's fury was legendary. When he arrived at the scene, the hallway fell silent.

"Damian," the old man said, his voice barely above a whisper, which somehow made it more terrifying than a shout.

"Grandfather, I can explain—"

"You will explain nothing." Grandpa Orson's eyes were ice. "You will leave this party. You will not speak to the press. And tomorrow morning, you will be in my office at seven o'clock sharp."

Damian opened his mouth to protest, but one look from his grandfather silenced him.

He grabbed Seraphina's arm and dragged her toward the elevator, not bothering to apologize to anyone.

After they left, Grandpa Orson turned to me and Cassius.

The fury in his face melted into something gentler — exhaustion, perhaps, and a deep, aching disappointment.

"I'm sorry," he said. "On what should have been a joyous night."

"It's not your fault, Grandpa," I said.

"It is," he replied quietly. "I spoiled that boy. I gave him everything and taught him nothing."

He looked at Cassius for a long moment.

"Don't make the same mistakes he did."

"I won't," Cassius said. And the way he said it — steady, absolute — made even me believe it.

Later that night, after the guests had gone and the staff was cleaning up, Cassius and I sat in the empty ballroom.

"Seraphina will leave him," I said.

"Maybe. Maybe not. She's invested too much to walk away now."

"Love?"

"Pride." He poured us both a drink. "She stole you man in front of the whole city. If she leaves Damian now, she admits it was all for nothing."

"So she'll stay and suffer?"

"She'll stay and scheme." He handed me a glass. "The question is what she'll scheme next."

I took the drink and stared at the empty dance floor.

"Whatever it is, we'll be ready."