PART 1: THE BALLROOM THAT TURNED INTO A TRAP
PART 1: THE BALLROOM THAT TURNED INTO A TRAP
The silence didn’t last.
It broke.
First came panic.
Then chaos.
Guests rushed toward the exits—only to be thrown back by the sudden descent of reinforced steel barriers.
Bang.
Bang.
Bang.
Each impact echoed like a sentence being delivered.
The billionaire heir stepped back for the first time.
Not angry anymore.
Not amused.
Alert.
“What is this?” someone screamed.
But no one answered.
Because I wasn’t looking at them.
I was watching him.
The man who had pushed me against marble only minutes earlier.
He turned toward the nearest door.
Then another.
Then another.
All sealed.
All locked.
All controlled.
His voice cracked slightly.
“You can’t do this… this is a public event.”
I tilted my head.
“Is it?”
That question hit harder than any shout.
Because suddenly he remembered—
Nothing here was public.
The guest list.
The venue.
The security system.
The access codes.
All of it required one thing:
May you like
Permission.
And I had never lost mine.
