Jealous Of The Billionaire's Dog

The Whitmore Gala was in full swing, but beneath the glittering chandeliers and carefully curated conversations, the night pulsed with hidden agendas. Every glance was calculated, every smile a performance, and every whispered word a potential weapon.

Vivian took a slow breath, her grip on her champagne flute tightening as she watched Daphne Lancaster weave seamlessly through the crowd. The woman had always been dangerous, but tonight, she was something worse—effortless. She belonged here, despite having been absent for years.

Why now?

Vivian's mind raced with possibilities. Did she want back into the Lancaster fortune? Was she here for Damian? Or was there something deeper, something more sinister lurking beneath that perfect, polished smile?

A shadow moved at her side. Elijah Sterling.

"Still watching her?" he murmured, his voice edged with amusement.

Vivian didn't turn her head. "You keep sneaking up on me, Elijah."

"Not sneaking. Just… observing." He sipped his whiskey, his gaze following hers. "She's a problem, isn't she?"

"Everything is a problem," Vivian replied smoothly.

Elijah chuckled. "Now that is the truest thing you've ever said."

Before Vivian could respond, the room stirred. A new arrival had just entered.

And not just any arrival.

Enter the Wildcards

Three figures stepped into the ballroom, drawing immediate attention. These weren't the usual guests—polished, refined, and harmlessly rich. These were disruptors.

1. Cassian Thorne – The EnforcerCassian was a wall of muscle, dressed in a perfectly tailored suit that did nothing to hide the sheer power in his frame. He wasn't just a bodyguard—he was a statement. A threat wrapped in expensive fabric. His cold gray eyes swept the room with calculated precision.

2. Elise Moreau – The Silent BladeElise was something else entirely. Petite and elegant, she moved like a whisper, her midnight-blue dress flowing around her like liquid shadow. There was something about her—something sharp, dangerous. The kind of woman who could kill with a smile and leave no trace.

3. Vincent Blackwood – The PhantomVincent was a legend whispered about in hushed tones. He wasn't a billionaire, nor a politician. He was something worse—an information broker, a man who knew the secrets of the powerful and sold them to the highest bidder. His presence at the gala was an anomaly. A warning.

The moment they arrived, Charlie Whitmore's journalistic instincts went into overdrive. She had been covering high society for years, but these three? They weren't part of this world.

She moved closer, discreetly pulling out her phone to snap a quick photo.

"Don't," a voice murmured.

Charlie turned sharply to find Wes Hawthorne beside her, arms crossed.

"They don't like cameras," Wes said, nodding toward the trio.

Charlie arched a brow. "You know them?"

"I know of them," Wes corrected. "And trust me, you don't want to be on their radar."

Charlie hesitated. "Then what are they doing here?"

Wes glanced at Lucinda Vaughn, who had stiffened at their arrival.

"That," he said slowly, "is what I'd like to know."

A Dog's Instinct

Tiberius, who had been resting at Damian's side, suddenly growled.

Damian's fingers tightened around his leash. The dog had been on edge all night, but this was different. This was warning.

Tiberius's gaze locked onto Cassian Thorne, the massive enforcer.

Cassian noticed.

He smirked slightly, crouching down just enough to meet the dog's eyes. Most men would back away from a beast like Tiberius, but Cassian? He leaned in.

"Smart dog," Cassian murmured. "Knows a killer when he sees one."

Tiberius bared his teeth.

Damian stepped forward, his voice calm but firm. "You have business here, Thorne?"

Cassian stood, adjusting his cufflinks. "Not with you, Lancaster."

Vincent Blackwood finally spoke, his voice smooth as silk. "We're just here to observe. No need to get territorial."

Damian's jaw tightened. "You don't belong here."

Vincent smirked. "Neither do a lot of people at this party. Yet here we all are."

Vivian, who had been silent until now, finally spoke. "Who sent you?"

Vincent's eyes flickered toward her. "Curious, aren't you?"

Elise Moreau let out a soft chuckle, stepping forward. "But we didn't come for you, darling." She turned her sharp gaze toward Daphne Lancaster. "We came for her."

Daphne's expression didn't waver, but Vivian saw the subtle shift in her posture. A tightening of her fingers. A small inhale.

Daphne knew them.

And she was afraid.

The First Move

The energy in the room changed. What had been an evening of polite deception had turned into something far more dangerous.

Damian, always controlled, spoke first. "If you have business with Daphne, you take it outside."

Vincent Blackwood tilted his head. "Oh, but Lancaster, why would we do that when we can do it right here?"

Charlie's heart pounded. She wasn't sure what was about to unfold, but she knew one thing—this was no longer a gala.

This was a battlefield.

And someone was about to make the first move.