The stepfathers lover

The Blackwood Foundation's annual charity gala glittered with golden chandeliers, champagne flutes, and murmurs of wealth. It was one of those events where the city's elite came to parade their fortunes under the guise of giving back. The hum of polished laughter echoed off marble walls, and the perfume of roses mingled with the scent of expensive cologne.

Jason Blackwood had been to dozens of these, yet tonight felt different. The ballroom was filled with familiar faces, politicians, CEOs, heirs to old money. His sharp black tuxedo fit him like a second skin, but what set him apart wasn't the tailored cut or the billionaire title. It was the presence he carried: the quiet confidence of a man who knew the world bent for him.

He moved through the crowd with a glass of wine in his hand, nodding politely to investors and foreign dignitaries. His mind, however, wasn't on small talk. He hated these events, but they were necessary for the Blackwood name and for the empire he had built; Blackwood AgroTech, the global leader in egg production and export.

Tonight, though, even the speeches and donations felt like background noise and mere words. Something unseen hovered and was waiting.

And then he saw her.

A flash of emerald green fabric, a soft laugh carried over the music. Across the ballroom, a woman stood near the silent auction table, reading the descriptions of priceless art pieces. Her gown hugged her figure in a way that made him forget the dull chatter surrounding him. The crystal lights caught in her hair, framing her face in delicate shadows drew him near.

Jason rarely stared. He never allowed himself to. But this time, he couldn't look away, he couldn't keep his gaze off. The orchestra's notes seemed to blur; the noise of the gala dimmed, and for a heartbeat, it was as if the room had folded in around them.

"Mr. Blackwood," a senator interrupted, extending a hand. Jason shook it firmly, exchanged a few words, but his attention never truly returned. By the time he looked back, the woman had moved, weaving through the crowd with a grace that intrigued him. Who was she?

Aira Daniels adjusted the strap of her gown nervously as she made her way toward the refreshment table. She didn't belong here. At least, that's how she felt. She was only here because her company had been hired to handle part of the marketing campaign for the gala. Her boss had insisted she attended, so she could network. Networking was the last thing on her mind. She just wanted to do her job and leave before anyone noticed she wasn't from their world.

Still, she couldn't deny the breathtaking beauty of the place, the chandeliers dripping with crystals, the polished marble floors, the orchestra playing softly in the background. For a fleeting moment, she allowed herself to feel enchanted. Until she felt it. A gaze. Strong, steady, unwavering.

She looked up and their eyes met.

Her breath caught. The man was striking. Tall, broad-shouldered, with sharp features that seemed carved for power. His tuxedo whispered wealth, but it was his eyes piercing, assessing that made her feel bare. He looked at her as if he already knew her. As if he had claimed her without saying a word.

Aira quickly turned back to her glass, her pulse racing. She had learned the hard way what men like that could do to women like her. She had a son waiting at home. She couldn't afford distractions, especially ones that came wrapped in billionaire charm.