The Grand Serpentine Ballroom glittered like a galaxy—the chandeliers casting fractured light over velvet walls and champagne towers. It was the Annual Empire Gala, where only the most powerful, the most feared, and the most envied gathered. Billionaire dynasties sent their heirs, moguls sent their mistresses, and universities sent their brightest masks.
Tonight, Lena Moretti arrived in a black silk gown with a slit that threatened scandal. Her dark curls were pinned high, revealing a swanlike neck wrapped in emeralds. She didn't walk in. She entered, and the air changed.
She wasn't here to dance.
She was here for war.
---
Ivy stood at the center of the ballroom, a diamond-studded butterfly pinned to her backless dress, watching the entrances. Her eyes weren't looking for Ochieng anymore.
She was watching Zahra.
Zahra had arrived arm in arm with Elijah Moretti, sending the room into hushed whispers. Together, they looked like sin and strategy personified.
Ivy's heart thudded—not from fear, but realization.
Zahra wasn't after Ochieng… she was after everything.
---
Ochieng, dressed in a midnight-blue tux, stood behind the curtain with Chase, his half-brother, and Amira, his secret adviser. Amira was 28, with soft freckles on golden skin, and eyes that read lies like ink on paper.
"Do not confront Zahra tonight," Amira warned. "She wants chaos. You give her silence."
Ochieng nodded. "And Lena?"
Chase smirked. "She brought a whip in her clutch bag. Good luck."
-
Lena approached Ochieng during the waltz, her gloved fingers teasing the collar of his shirt.
"You owe me a kiss," she whispered.
"I owe you an apology," he replied coolly.
She smiled, leaned in close enough to brush his lips—and pulled away before they touched.
"That was my revenge," she whispered. "Now watch me burn your kingdom."
---
Xavier Mutiso sat in the VIP balcony, flanked by his daughter Zaria and two foreign trillionaires—Madame Daiyu from Shanghai and Alonzo Cruz from Barcelona. They had come to scout. To test. To disrupt.
Madame Daiyu eyed Ivy.
"She's the key," she murmured. "Let her crack… the rest will collapse."
---
As midnight neared, the lights dimmed. A hologram flickered across the ballroom screen—a leaked video.
Ochieng. Ivy. A hotel suite. But not from this year.
From two years ago.
Before everything.
The crowd gasped. Ivy froze. Zahra smiled like a cobra.
Lena whispered to her champagne: "Let the ghost dance begin."
---