Page 44 of Ruthless Kings of Obsession

Or someone, I think, catching my reflection in a nearby mirror. The golden threading in my suit catches the chandelier light like flames, and there's something in my eyes I've never seen before – something that makes even the most hardened Savage Heirs take a step back when I meet their gaze.

The organizer drones on, but all I can think about is Eva lying unconscious in Marcus's arms, Zander fighting for his life in ahospital bed, and Matteo's broken body being rushed to surgery. My pretty face and perfect posture weren't enough to protect them.

But maybe it's time to show them all what else this model can do.

A hush falls over the crowd as the stage lights begin to dim. The massive clock strikes 3:05 AM as a single spotlight illuminates the center stage. They're all watching me, waiting to see if the Ruthless Kings will fall.

Let them watch, I think, straightening to my full height.Let them whisper.

They're about to learn that even the most beautiful masks can hide the deadliest secrets.

Mr. Leighton emerges from behind the curtain with the same commanding presence that's built empires and broken lesser men. His perfectly tailored black suit seems to absorb light, creating a void that demands attention. But there's something different in his bearing tonight – a tension that speaks of carefully controlled fury.

"Distinguished guests," his voice carries effortlessly through the grand ballroom. "I must address the unexpected delays that have brought us here at this unusual hour. Certain events have transpired that required immediate attention?—"

"You mean your son's viral coming out party?" Someone calls from the crowd, alcohol making them bold. The words carry clear disdain, triggering a wave of barely suppressed laughter.

Mr. Leighton's expression doesn't change, but the temperature in the room seems to drop several degrees. Before he can respond, more voices join the chorus of criticism.

"Did you see the hashtags? #LeightonLegacyLost is trending worldwide!"

"How can we take this institution seriously when your own heir is broadcasting his... proclivities for all to see?"

The whispers grow bolder, years of carefully hidden contempt finally finding voice. I maintain my position, standing perfectly still in my crimson suit while chaos erupts around me.

"If you care about Leighton's reputation, you'll expel him immediately," a board member's wife declares, her diamonds glittering like ice. "We can't have that sort of scandal associated with our children's education."

"Thank God you had the foresight to name Matteo as your true heir," another voice adds. "At least he has the proper breeding for leadership."

The irony of their words almost makes me laugh. If they only knew where their "properly bred" heir was right now – lying in a hospital bed with broken bones and a concussion. But I keep my face carefully neutral, years of modeling teaching me how to wear any mask required.

"Mr. Sinclair," a Savage Heir's father addresses me directly, his tone dripping with false concern. "You've been unusually quiet. Surely you have something to say about your fellow Ruthless King's disgraceful behavior? After all, he's potentially compromised everything we stand for."

All eyes turn to me, waiting. They expect the pretty model to join their chorus of condemnation, to distance himself from the falling star that is Domino Leighton.

Instead, I take a deliberately slow sip of my prosecco, letting the silence stretch until it becomes uncomfortable. When I finally meet their eager gazes, something in my expression makes several of them step back.

"It's interesting," I say softly, my voice carrying despite its low volume, "how quickly vultures gather when they think they smell death."

The man who questioned me flushes red. "How dare you?—"

"But tell me," I continue as if he hadn't spoken, "while you're all so concerned about reputations and secrets... who leakedthe security footage from the private parking structure? Who made sure those particular cameras were working when they're usually conveniently disabled?"

A different kind of silence falls over the crowd. Mr. Leighton's eyes find mine across the room, something like approval flickering in their depths.

"After all," I smile, and it's not the camera-ready smile they're used to seeing, "if we're talking about compromising society's secrets, shouldn't we be more concerned about the inside job that made this possible in the first place?"

The whispers take on a different tone now, suspicious glances being exchanged throughout the room. I can almost see them mentally reviewing their own secrets, wondering what else might be exposed.

"Or perhaps," I add, swirling the prosecco in my glass, "we should discuss how many of your own children have starred in similar videos that haven't quite made it to social media... yet."

The threat hangs in the air like poison gas, making several prominent families shift uncomfortably. They're starting to realize that the pretty model might have been paying more attention than they thought during all those fashion shows and charity galas.

Mr. Leighton clears his throat, drawing attention back to the stage. But I don't miss the slight nod he gives me – acknowledgment from one predator to another.

Mr. Leighton straightens his already perfect posture, commanding silence with mere presence. The tension in the room has shifted from scandal-hungry excitement to something more dangerous – the quiet before a storm.

"Let us proceed with the acknowledgment of our current hierarchy," his voice carries authority that cuts through remaining whispers. "Beginning with our Ruthless Kings, followed by the Deviant Lords and Savage Heirs."

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