Chapter 209: Chapter 209 Into The Lion’s Den III

The music stopped.

The laughter died.

The chatter faded like smoke.

It was like the entire ballroom collectively held its breath.

Liam didn’t need anyone to tell him what had just happened—he could feel it in the air, thick and tense, like the calm before a storm. All heads turned, and so did his. He already knew. He knew exactly what this silence meant.

The royal family had arrived.

From the grand staircase at the far end of the massive hall, five figures began descending in synchronized steps. Three of them trailed behind, dressed in sleek black suits and moving with the calculated grace of men trained to kill. Their eyes scanned the crowd with disciplined vigilance.

But it was the two in front that drew every single eye in the room.

Ann walked beside a young man roughly Liam’s age, and both were dressed in a stunning, bold red that made them impossible to ignore.

She was wearing a deep crimson gown that flowed down to the floor like a river of silk and flame. The dress clung perfectly to her body—tight at the waist, hugging her curves, flaring out at her hips with elegance and power. It shimmered as she moved, catching the golden chandelier lights like diamonds melting into fire. Her long, dark hair was pulled into a regal, flowing style that exposed her flawless neck and shoulders. Her makeup was subtle, just enough to enhance her natural beauty, and her smile…

Her smile was breathtaking.

It was dazzling, proud, and flawless—like the entire world had bent to her will and she was simply enjoying the show. Her eyes sparkled, lips curved, posture perfect.

She looked like a queen already.

The man beside her—no doubt Prince Boris—matched her step for step. His red suit was crisp and immaculately tailored, adorned with golden pins and buttons that marked his status. His slicked-back dark hair, clean jawline, and self-assured stride screamed royalty, but even his presence couldn’t overshadow Ann.

The room was captivated. Whispers buzzed softly among the guests like static.

“My God, look at her…”

“She’s stunning. Absolutely stunning.”

“Prince Boris hit the jackpot.”

“Lucky bastard…”

Compliments flew through the crowd. Some people clapped gently, some simply stared in awe.

But Liam’s expression didn’t change.

His jaw clenched.

His brows drew together tightly.

His deep blue eyes locked onto her, unblinking.

Because she was smiling.

Smiling like she was in love. Like she was proud. Like everything in her world was perfect.

And that—that was what made his insides churn.

Lana stood beside him, her lips slightly parted in disbelief. She didn’t know Ann deeply, hadn’t spent much time with her, but even from the little she knew, something felt off. Was this really what she wanted? Could Ann truly be happy with all of this? With him?

She turned her head slightly to look at Liam.

His face was dark. Stone-cold.

No emotion showed on the surface, but Lana could feel it from him—like standing too close to a wildfire. He was raging inside.

Ann and Prince Boris reached the main floor and stood for a moment as the room began to fill with music again. Boris raised his glass high with a polished, charming grin.

“To love, to unity, and to a future full of strength!” he toasted.

Cheers followed. Polite clapping. A few more murmurs of admiration.

Then, as the ballroom slowly returned to its measured rhythm—people talking, dancing, drinking—Prince Boris didn’t rejoin the crowd.

He turned.

And he walked straight toward Liam.

Ann followed closely at his side, her hand delicately looped through his arm. The red of her gown moved like liquid flame with every step. The guards didn’t follow. They stayed near the stairs, eyes watching from a distance.

Liam didn’t move. He didn’t blink.

Lana stepped in closer beside him, her green eyes narrowing. She could feel the heat building off of Liam’s skin. Tension coiled in the air like an electric current waiting for a spark.

“This is trouble,” she murmured under her breath, her voice low and clear.

She slid a little closer to him, fingers brushing against his jacket like she was ready to intervene if she had to.

Finally, the prince and his soon-to-be bride reached them.

Prince Boris didn’t even notice Lana. His full attention—his smug, satisfied, arrogant gaze—was on Liam.

“So,” he said smoothly, voice dipped in superiority. “You must be Liam. Pleasure to meet you.”

Liam tilted his head slightly, the faintest trace of a smile curving his lips—but it didn’t reach his eyes.

He lifted his glass once more, drained another cup of whiskey, and met the prince’s gaze with icy precision.

“Cut the bullshit,” he said, voice low and calm. “Go straight to the point.”

Prince Boris kept smiling.

Unbothered. Untouched. Untouched by Liam’s cold hostility, untouched by the tension suffocating the air between them. His composure was unnerving, almost theatrical, like he was enjoying the moment more than he should.

He stepped slightly closer and lowered his voice, his tone calm and deliberate.

“I’m here for one reason, Liam,” he said. “I know about your history with Ann. I know you two shared… something. But the truth is, it ended the moment she fell in love with me.”

Liam’s brow twitched. The corner of his lips lifted in a humorless chuckle, dry and sharp.

“Fell in love?” he echoed, eyes narrowing as he turned slowly toward Ann.

She was silent.

Not a single word came from her mouth. No reaction. No denial. No guilt.

She just stood there—poised, expressionless—looking back at him like he was no more than a memory she’d already buried.

A stranger.

Liam stared at her, trying to see something familiar in her face. Anything. A flicker of guilt. A hesitation. A sign that it was all an act. But there was nothing.

His chest tightened as he slowly turned back to Boris, voice heavier now, laced with a growing chill.

“I know what this is,” he said. “Ann’s family was drowning in debt, right? This whole charade—it’s their ticket out. Ann was sold to repay what they owed, wasn’t she?”

He wasn’t even asking at this point. He was stating it. Trying to make sense of it. Trying to explain to himself how the girl he knew—his Ann—could suddenly switch sides like this. Smile like that. Walk arm-in-arm with a prince she barely knew.

That had to be it. It had to be the only reason.

Because the Ann he knew would never fall in love with someone else—not in two weeks. Not after everything they’d been through. She couldn’t have moved on that fast.

Unless she was forced to.

Or… unless she was never his to begin with.

Prince Boris smiled again. That same smug, impenetrable smile.

“You’re mistaken,” he said softly. “Look at her.”

He nodded toward Ann.

“Does she look like someone forced into this? Does she look like a girl paying her family’s debt? Or does she look like a woman who made a choice?”

Liam didn’t move.

He looked again.

Ann’s hand was still resting lightly on Boris’ arm. Her chin was raised. Her expression hadn’t cracked once.

That was when she finally spoke.

Her voice was calm. Collected. Every word hit like a cold blade across his skin.

“You should move on, Liam,” she said, eyes locked onto his. “Forget about me. I’ve moved on. I’m in a happy place now.”

The words didn’t echo—they detonated.

Liam stood still, but inside, something shattered.

He wasn’t the type to show emotion. He didn’t scream. He didn’t flinch. But in that moment, it felt like the floor was torn out from beneath him. His lungs squeezed tight in his chest, his pulse thundering in his ears.

Even Lana gasped.

She stepped forward instinctively, her voice sharp and filled with disbelief.

“How could you say that?” Lana snapped. “Do you even hear yourself right now? You’re hurting him and acting like it’s nothing!”

She didn’t care if the room could hear. She didn’t care about who Ann was supposed to be now. She only cared that the woman in front of them was breaking Liam to pieces while pretending it didn’t mean anything.

Boris’s eyes turned to Lana for the first time.

Until now, she had just been a shadow in the background—a side piece, a pretty girl in Liam’s company. But now that she was speaking, now that her emerald-green eyes were blazing with intensity, he saw her.

And he froze.

For the first time that evening, Prince Boris’s composure cracked ever so slightly.

He blinked, his lips parting as his eyes roamed over her face, her body, her presence. Everything about her was mesmerizing—her posture, her poise, the fiery defiance in her gaze.

A month ago, he had looked at Ann and thought she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

But looking at Lana now?

There was no comparison.

She wasn’t just beautiful—she was celestial.

Like she had descended from another world. A world that no prince could ever rule.

Her body had that hypnotic hourglass figure, every curve sharp and flawless like a sculpture designed by lust itself. Her skin glowed with natural radiance. Her lips were full, glossy and fierce. Her cheekbones, her eyes, the heat she gave off—she was art. She was temptation forged into flesh.

Boris swallowed subtly, visibly stunned.

He had seen models, actresses, royalty.

None of them held a candle to this woman standing before him now.

And the worst part? She wasn’t even trying.

She stood there, next to Liam, not dressed to show off, not speaking to impress—yet she eclipsed every woman in the room effortlessly, even Ann.

Even his Ann.

And it burned him.

That Liam had come here with her.

That Liam was the one who got that kind of woman wrapped around his side.

For the first time tonight, the prince felt off-balance. Slightly threatened. Slightly humbled.

He looked away quickly.

But Liam saw it.

He saw the way Boris’s eyes lingered a little too long. Saw the flicker of envy in them.

And for the first time since Ann spoke, Liam smiled.

It wasn’t a happy smile.

It was cold. Ruthless.

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