She felt them before she saw them.
Evelyn Blackwell entered like she was sealing a fate. Every movement had the precision of a final chess move. Her midnight-blue Chanel suit was tailored to perfection—severe in cut, colder in tone. The kind of fabric that dared anyone to wrinkle it. The kind of look that warned you not to try.
Beside her, draped in tailored black, Miriam followed with quiet threat and tightly coiled judgment. If Evelyn was the ice, Miriam was the air before it shattered.
They weren’t women in power.
They were predators.
And tonight?
They’d come to hunt.
Arden didn’t need to look up to know they’d arrived. The air shifted, coiling tighter, as if even the walls were bracing.
When she did lift her head, her gaze met Evelyn’s without flinching. Steel met steel.
“Welcome to The Blackwell Room, Mrs. Blackwell. Mrs. Harrington.”
Her voice didn’t waver. Didn’t bend. Cool, direct. Equal parts courtesy and warning.
Evelyn’s smile was more blade than warmth.
“Arden Rivers.” She let the name roll slowly from her tongue, each syllable laced with distaste. “We need a word. In private.”
The leather groaned faintlyas Evelyn slid into the booth like a woman used to being waited on. Miriam followed, mirroring her posture—hands folded, gaze unreadable.
Arden didn’t sit.
She wouldn’t lower herself beneath them.
Evelyn tilted her wrist. A diamond bracelet caught the light, scattering it in sharp little shards across the table. The gesture was practiced. Controlled. A weapon disguised as elegance.
“I understand you’ve managed to capture my son’s attention.”
There it was.
The first cut, wrapped in silk.
Arden’s heart ticked once, then steadied. “Gideon and I are together. Yes.”
Evelyn’s expression didn’t shift. But something beneath it turned colder. “Together.” She repeated it as if the word offended her.
Miriam reached for her drink. Sipped. Set it down with a gentle clink.
“The Blackwell name carries weight, Miss Rivers. History. Responsibility. It wasn’t meant to be shared lightly.”
A pause. Then, smoothly:
“Especially not with someone of your… background.”
The unspoken part of the sentence filled the silence like smoke.
Your kind.
Arden didn’t flinch. Not anymore.
Her hand curled once at her side. Just once. And then stilled.
