The Contract Bride of Westwood

The hallway was still. Too still.

Leo's breath fogged faintly as he stood just outside the ballroom, near the arched marble threshold. His chest rose and fell with quiet intensity, his mind a war zone of memories and shadows. The glimpse he'd caught earlier—the crimson dress, the black hair, the haunting elegance—was still fresh in his mind.

It couldn't be her.

It wasn't her.

She was gone.

Dead and buried.

But then—he saw it again.

Just as he turned to head back inside, his eyes caught movement—a woman in red, standing at the far end of the hallway, facing the other way. Her posture. Her hair. The same silhouette that had haunted him in dreams and regrets.

His heart skipped.

Without thinking, Leo moved.

Each step felt heavier, weighed down by the past. The air was cooler here, thinner. He could hear the faint humming of the chandeliers above, like ghosts whispering.

He approached the figure slowly, careful not to blink. Not to break the illusion.

"Celia?" he breathed, the name like poison and prayer on his tongue.

The woman turned.

It wasn't her.

The dress was different up close. The hair—shorter. Her eyes were unfamiliar. She gave him a confused glance before walking away, disappearing into the powder room with a huff.

Leo stood frozen, fists clenched.

You're losing it, Westwood.

He inhaled deeply, dragging his fingers through his hair.

Just a trick of the light.

A cruel coincidence.

But it had shaken him more than he'd like to admit. The resemblance was uncanny—enough to stir something long buried. Enough to remind him why he avoided places like this.

When he stepped back into the ballroom, the noise returned all at once. Warm lights, slow music, clinking glasses. Laughter that felt too bright. Too hollow.

And then he saw them.

Aaron stood too close to Melanie.

But this time—she wasn't shrinking away.

She was speaking.

No. She was standing up.

Leo slowed his pace just enough to listen before interfering.

"I don't know who you think you are," Melanie said, voice calm but biting, "but if you're trying to intimidate me, you'll need more than smug little threats and creepy smirks."

Aaron raised a brow, amused. "Smug little threats? You've grown claws, Mrs. Westwood."

"Maybe," she replied. "But I've also grown a spine."

Aaron leaned in slightly. "You really believe Leonard cares about you?"

"Why wouldn't he?" Melanie smiled, cold. "He doesn't need to lie to get attention. You do."

That made Aaron's lips twitch—almost like he wanted to laugh. "So naive. He marries you out of nowhere, drags you into a world you don't belong to, and you think that's love?"

Melanie's smile didn't waver. "You're just upset he chose someone who didn't need his money to feel valuable."

Aaron took a step back, expression faltering.

"You think I'm scared of you?" Melanie's voice was calm, controlled. "You don't even scare yourself. That's why you provoke people—you're trying to feel relevant."

Aaron's smirk wavered.

"I know your type," she continued. "Bitter little men who think power is in intimidation. But you only look big because you surround yourself with shadows."

Leo blinked. That fire in her—he hadn't seen it before. And it stunned him.

Aaron leaned forward, his smile sharper now. "You've got a mouth on you. That won't last."

"It will if I have to bite," she said.

That was Leo's cue.

He stepped between them, slow and deliberate.

Aaron's gaze shifted lazily. "Leonard," he said. "You're raising quite the storm."

Leo's tone was ice. "Step away."

Aaron raised his hands mockingly. "Just a friendly conversation."

"She's not your friend. And you're out of line."

Aaron tilted his head. "Still haunted, huh?"

Leo's eyes darkened. "Careful."

Aaron smirked. "Some things never change."

He turned to Melanie. "Watch your back, Mrs. Westwood. You'll realize soon enough what being married to him really costs."

And just like that, he melted back into the crowd.

Melanie let out a shaky breath. "I didn't mean to cause a scene."

Leo looked at her, something unreadable in his eyes. "You didn't. You held your ground."

She blinked up at him, surprised by the note of admiration in his voice.

They stood there a second longer before he handed her a glass of champagne.

"You're not drinking?" she asked.

"I don't trust anything I didn't pour myself."

Her lips lifted. "That's... paranoid."

He gave her a glance. "That's surviving."

Melanie's eyes drifted to the dance floor. "So, when do we get to dance?"

Leo paused. "You want to?"

She hesitated, then smiled. "I think it'll help me feel less like I accidentally walked into a Netflix drama."

A breath of laughter escaped him. "Come on then."

He took her hand and led her to the floor.

As they swayed, Leo's thoughts drifted.

Celia had loved dancing.

She used to laugh when he stepped on her toes, then kiss him under chandeliers just like this one.

But Melanie was different. Her movements were tentative, graceful, unsure—but real. Her smile didn't carry ghosts. Her eyes met his with something warm, something that grounded him.

"You're not bad at this," she said.

"Not my first gala."

"Or your first fake wife?"

That earned her a small smirk. "You're my first brave one."

Their eyes met briefly. The music spun around them.

Her fingers curled slightly against his chest. "Thank you," she whispered.

"For what?"

"For protecting me. For not making me feel like I don't belong."

His heart skipped. "You do."

She blinked. "What?"

Leo looked away. "Here. In this room. With me."

Before she could reply, a server leaned down and whispered something in Leo's ear.

He sighed and straightened. "I'll be back," he said.

She nodded, watching him go.

Then—

A tap on her shoulder.

Melanie turned.

The man standing there was unfamiliar. Tall, well-dressed, early thirties maybe. His face was handsome in an ordinary way—but his eyes? Cold. Sharp. Intelligent.

"Beautiful dress," he said casually.

"Thanks," she replied cautiously. "Do we know each other?"

"Not yet," he said with a tilt of his head. "But we will."

There was a glint in his eyes—not flirtation. Something colder. Like he was testing her.

Before she could say another word—he was gone. Slipped into the crowd like mist.

Melanie's heart thudded.

Who the hell was that?

And behind her, Leo returned—his eyes scanning the crowd, narrowing when he saw the tension in her shoulders.

He didn't ask right away.

But his instincts were already screaming.