Chapter 23
JADE
I didn’t expect the hush.
Didn’t expect the way every pair of eyes tracked me as I stepped into the ballroom like I’d just walked off a magazine cover instead of a plane of nerves.
The gown fit like it had been painted on—rich, iridescent silk the color of midnight storms. My hair was clipped back, short now, fierce and modern. I had smoky eyes, a bold lip, and a face that said: I survived hell. And I’m still here.
Kannon offered his arm, grinning like he already knew we were about to break the internet.
“Damn, J,” he murmured. “You’re about to make some hearts stop.”
I gave him a tight smile. “Let’s hope the paramedics are on call.”
The ballroom was straight out of a winter fairy tale—glass and gold and garlands everywhere. Beneath it all, the undercurrent of cameras clicking and whispered names.
And Leo?
Yeah. I felt him before I saw him. His stare slid over me like a secret. I didn’t look. Couldn’t. Not yet. Not when I had something to say.
When they called me up, I walked the stage alone. My heels clicked, and my heart thudded loud enough to drown out the orchestra. My PR guru gave me a nod from the sidelines.
I took the mic. Breathed. And spoke.
“We all wear masks.”
“Some are made of glitter and glam, others are invisible—stitched together from pain and shame and fear. But no matter what they’re made of… we wear them. To survive. To protect. To hide.”
“Tonight, we’re raising money for kids who fight battles in hospitals. Battles most of us could never comprehend. But not all fights leave visible scars.”
“Some of us fight every day to be seen. To be heard. To prove we matter. We carry wounds from betrayal. From cruelty. From silence.”
“I know what it’s like to be underestimated. Judged. Torn apart by people who’ve never walked a step in my shoes. But I also know what it’s like to rise anyway.”
“This night is about courage. Not just the courage to heal—but the courage to be real.”
“So if you’ve ever felt broken, dismissed, discarded—this is your reminder that you’re not done. You’re not finished. You’re just beginning.”
I didn’t realize I’d stopped breathing until the crowd erupted. Not polite clapping—roaring applause. People on their feet. Hands cupped over hearts. Even some tears.
My throat was tight, but I smiled. Not for them—for me.
I stepped down and instantly felt Leo’s eyes like heat on my skin. I didn’t have to look to know he was watching. Every curve of this dress, every flicker of emotion on my face, every breath—I felt it like gravity.
But he wasn’t beside me.
He wasn’t fighting for me.
And that ache? It twisted sharp. Because Kannon’s hand on my waist was steady. Proud. Supportive. But it wasn’t his. Wasn’t Leo’s. And I wanted it to be.
I took a flute of champagne. I posed for photos. I smiled at the cameras.
But inside?
Inside, I was screaming for the boy who used to fight like hell.
And wondering why now… he wouldn’t.
The ballroom glittered like something out of a dream—champagne flutes twinkling in the hands of the elite, laughter echoing off marble columns, heels clicking across polished floors like clockwork. But underneath it all… a different kind of electricity buzzed.
I was still warm from the applause. Still holding onto that breathless high after my speech. Kannon’s hand rested lightly at the small of my back, guiding me onto the dance floor as the orchestra shifted into something slow, something swoony and full of sparkle.
“You crushed that,” he said low, leaning in so only I could hear.
I smiled but didn’t look at him. “Thanks.”
“You okay?” he asked, because he could feel it too—that I was here but not here. That my skin was buzzing for someone else’s heat. Someone else's eyes.
Leo.
I spotted him across the room, leaning against a column with Tristan and Xavier. His suit was black velvet and fitted like sin. He had his tie loosened and his sleeves rolled just enough to make girls dizzy. And he was watching me—burning holes into my soul, into this dress, into us.
And then he wasn’t.
He turned to a girl—Blair’s cousin, I think—and asked her to dance. Just like that. Tristan pulled another date from a power couple in the corner. Xavier whisked someone off before her date even noticed.
Girls with boyfriends. Girls already spoken for.
But none of them said no.
The whole ballroom was watching. Everyone pretending it was normal while walking on glass.
Because no settlement had been signed.
No truce officially made.
No blood spilled—yet.
And the sharks in heels and silk? They were waiting.
Bianca and her gaggle of pretty poisons stood near the ice sculpture, their perfect lips curled in tight smiles. Watching. Waiting. Keeping their claws sheathed—for now. But the way their eyes followed me said everything: the truce was temporary. Thin as spun sugar and just as likely to shatter.
Kannon pulled me closer, his grip grounding. “I know this isn’t easy,” he said. “But you’re doing the impossible.”
“I’m just surviving,” I murmured.
“Yeah. But you make it look like a revolution.”
I wanted to believe that. Wanted to believe that every step, every speech, every stolen moment was me taking back power instead of just faking confidence in heels that hurt.
But when Leo spun his partner in my direction and caught my eye mid-twirl, it was like my whole body forgot how to lie.
Because I wanted him.
Still.
Even if he wasn’t fighting for me the way I needed.
Even if his silence hurt more than Blair’s whispers.
I let Kannon guide me through the next song. I laughed at something he said. I smiled for the cameras and the whispers and the people watching like this was a chessboard and I was the queen finally learning how to move.
But deep down?
I was tired of waiting for Leo to claim me.
Tired of pretending I didn’t care when every dance he stole from someone else felt like another one he didn’t take with me.
And the silence?
It was getting louder.
The lights cut out.
For a second, I think it’s part of the ambiance—some dramatic moment before the next performance. But then the music dies, and a hush falls like a warning before the scream.
It starts at the far end of the ballroom—someone shouting, a chair crashing, the sharp yelp of someone getting shoved. Then footsteps, fast and purposeful, weaving through the crowd.
Bodies shift. Panic crackles in the air. Screams and shouts surround us.
A hand grabs mine.
I don’t even flinch. I know who it is before I see him. The feel of his grip, the fire in his presence—there’s no mistaking Leo Holt.
“Come with me,” he growls.
He pulls me through the dark, guiding me past gasps and rustling gowns and confused whispers. We stop behind one of the velvet-draped windows, the moonlight cutting across his face like something out of a fever dream. He presses me back, shielding me.
“What’s happening?” I whisper.
His lips brush my ear. “I’ve got you, Gitanilla. They’re not going to hurt you. Not on my watch. Not tonight. Not ever again.”
And then he kisses me.
Hot, desperate, real. Like he’s drowning and I’m the surface. Like he’s held this in for too long and can't go another second without tasting the truth.
“I’ve missed you,” he murmurs against my mouth. “Baby, I’ve missed you.”
His hand cups the side of my face, like he’s anchoring us in this chaos, and all the noise fades. There’s nothing but his lips, his touch, his voice in my ear. I drown out the chaos in the dark erupting behind us.
“I’ve been working on becoming someone better,” he whispers.
“Someone who doesn’t run. Someone who sticks.
I can’t explain everything yet, but—Jade—I’ve been getting my grades up.
I’m talking to scouts. I’ve got Brown and Yale on the line.
Not because of my name. Because of me. I’m working on a full ride, my own way. ”
His forehead presses against mine.
“You showed me what that looks like, Jade. You—you made me want to earn something for once in my life. Not just take. I love you, Gitanilla. Don’t give up on us. Not yet.”
My lips part to respond—but just then, the lights flood back on.
And the real screaming starts.
People turn, gasping, shrieking, pointing. Blair. Rosalie. Covered in slime and lemonade and something that looks like feathers. Clumps of it cling to their designer dresses and hair extensions, and the mascara running down their faces is already going viral.
"It was her!" Blair shrieks, stabbing her finger toward me. "It was Jade! This is her revenge!”
“What the hell?!” Kannon’s voice cuts through the air. I see him elbowing his way toward me, furious and drenched in whatever chaos just exploded.
Whispers become accusations. Phones come out. Flashbulbs blink.
“Jade, say something!” someone yells.
My breath stutters. “It’s a setup,” I say, stunned.
Leo steps forward, his arm around me now, shoulders squared like a shield.
“A very transparent one,” he says coolly. “They’re not going to get away with this. I swear it.”
I cling to him, not because I’m weak—but because I’ve never felt stronger than I do in this moment. Standing in the wreckage, with truth on my side and Leo by my side.
But deep down, I know—this war is far from over.
Kannon barrels through the crowd, shoving some lacrosse guy out of the way.
“Jade!” he calls, reaching my side and immediately slipping his arm around my back. His face is flushed, furious, breathless. “What the hell is going on?”
Before I can answer, Tristan and Xavier materialize like shadows, stepping in close—one behind me, the other to my right—forming a wall of muscle and expensive suits.
Mindy is in asian dragon mode her sequined dress glittering like the fury in her eyes as she starts swearing in Mandarin.
The word “bitch” and “sluts” though was dropped in perfect English.
A circle.
My circle.
A protective ring no one dares breach.
Not even the parents screaming for blood.
“Enough!” a woman shrieks. “She needs to be removed—NOW!”
“Security! Get her out!”