Chapter 5 The Return

• Chapter Five: The Return
• The chandelier overhead bathed the grand ballroom in golden light, shimmering against the high ceilings and walls draped in sheer elegance. Paris’ elite buzzed with excitement as champagne flutes clinked and laughter echoed through the vast space. Tonight, the Kingston Foundation’s charity gala was the event of the season—lavish, exclusive, breathtaking.
• But none of that mattered to Sofia.
• She stood at the top of the sweeping staircase, a vision in emerald silk. The dress clung to her curves like a second skin, elegant yet daring, the plunging neckline hinting at power rather than vulnerability.
• Her hair was swept back into a perfect updo, diamond earrings glistening against her neck.
• But it wasn’t the dress or the jewels that made heads turn.
• It was her presence.
• Fierce. Unyielding.
• The girl Aaron Kingston had thrown away was dead.
• And the woman standing there—La Reina—had returned.
• Sofia’s heart pounded, but she kept her expression calm, her breathing steady. Elise’s words echoed in her mind: “You must control the room before you speak. Let them feel you before they know you.”
• And tonight, she would be felt.
• Her emerald gaze swept the room, searching.
• And then, she saw him.
• Aaron Kingston.
• Standing near the bar, a whiskey glass in hand, exuding raw power in his custom black tuxedo.
• But he wasn’t the same either.
• The man she once loved had become harder, colder—his face more sculpted, his eyes sharper. The slight shadow along his jaw only enhanced the dangerous air he carried, effortlessly commanding the room.
• But what struck her most was the emptiness behind those eyes.
• He looked… lost.
• Sofia crushed the unwanted ache in her chest.
• No.
• He didn’t deserve her sympathy. Not after what he had done.
• Focus, she reminded herself. This isn’t about emotions. This is about power.
• And tonight, she would reclaim hers.
• A waiter approached with a glass of champagne, but Sofia shook her head. Alcohol wasn’t an option, not with the twins nestled inside her.
• But no one knew that.
• Not yet.
• As she descended the staircase, every eye followed her. Conversations slowed, whispers rippled across the room. Who is she? Look at her dress! Is that… La Reina?
• She moved with purpose, stopping near the art display where a group of industry moguls lingered. They didn’t even notice her at first—until she spoke.
• “The brushwork here lacks depth,” she murmured, her tone calm but piercing enough to draw attention. “Too obvious. Like the artist was trying too hard to impress rather than express.”
• The men turned, slightly offended, but then they saw her.
• One of them, a gallery owner, recovered quickly. “You have quite the critical eye, Ms…?”
• A smile. Sharp. Controlled.
• “Sofia Laurent. But most know me as La Reina.”
• Recognition dawned instantly.
• “The designer? The face behind the Midnight Revolution collection?”
• She nodded, offering a delicate sip of her sparkling water. “I prefer my work to speak louder than my name.”
• A statement made for the audience. Because just across the room, Aaron had turned.
• His gaze collided with hers.
• And for the first time since that horrible night—he saw her.
• His lips parted, his body stiffening.
• Sofia felt the tension crackle like electricity, but she refused to break eye contact.
• She let him look.
• Let him see exactly what he had lost.
• Aaron handed his glass to a passing waiter and began to move toward her, his gaze dark, intense, searching.
• A small part of her heart whispered, You shouldn’t have come.
• But the louder voice—the one shaped by pain, betrayal, and loss—roared back: No. Let him suffer.
• “Sofia.”
• His voice.
• Deeper. Rougher.
• But it didn’t shake her this time.
• She turned slowly, arching a brow as though she barely recognized him. “Mr. Kingston. I didn’t expect to see you here.”
• His jaw tightened. “Sofia… it’s you.”
• She sipped her drink, giving him nothing but a polite smile. “I go by Sofia Laurent now. Surely you’ve heard of me? La Reina? No? That’s a shame. I thought you kept up with the fashion industry.”
• Aaron’s eyes narrowed, his gaze sweeping over her face, searching. For what? The timid wife he’d abandoned?
• She wasn’t there anymore.
• “Sofia…” His voice dropped lower, rawer. “You left. Without a word. I thought—”
• “You thought I’d disappear quietly?” she cut in, voice sharp. “You told me to leave, remember? You made it very clear I was nothing to you. A liar. A manipulator. A gold digger, wasn’t it?”
• A muscle in his jaw flexed. “I was wrong.”
• “Yes,” she said softly, leaning closer, her scent wrapping around him. “You were. And I won’t forgive you for it.”
• Aaron’s hand twitched at his side as if fighting the urge to reach for her.
• “You disappeared,” he whispered. “I looked for you, Sofia. For months.”
• A bitter laugh slipped past her lips. “You didn’t look hard enough. And I wasn’t hiding. I was healing.”
• The memory of the hospital bed, the coldness of losing her son, threatened to choke her, but she shoved it back.
• Aaron stared at her like he was trying to solve a puzzle, his eyes dropping briefly to her waist. His lips parted as if he’d noticed something… but she moved back, reclaiming her power.
• “This conversation is over,” she said coolly, stepping past him.
• But Aaron wasn’t done. His hand shot out, gently capturing her wrist. Not harsh, not demanding.
• Desperate.
• “Sofia… please. Tell me the truth. Why did you leave like that? Was it because of—”
• She yanked her hand free, voice like ice.
• “You were the reason, Aaron. Your betrayal. Your cruelty. You destroyed me when I needed you most. And you’ll never have that power again.”
• With those words, she turned and walked away, every step a declaration.
• But as she disappeared into the crowd, her heart pounded mercilessly against her ribs.
• Because no matter how much power she had gained—
• Facing Aaron Kingston again had stirred something dangerous.
• And it terrified her.