Sweet For You, Ruthless For Others

Hermia stumbled.

Her breath hitched as gravity betrayed her, pulling her body forward. Her purse slipped from her hand, the air whooshed past her ears, and the polished floor gleamed ominously closer. 

Panic surged as she realized there was nothing to grab, nothing to halt her inevitable fall.

But just as the world seemed to tilt entirely out of her control, an arm shot out.

Firm, strong, and decisive, the arm looped securely around her waist, halting her descent mid-air. 

Her breath left her in a startled gasp as she clung to the stranger's touch, her mind reeling from the sudden change in fate.

She blinked up at him, her gaze locking onto a pair of fierce, icy blue eyes. They were sharp and piercing, a storm contained within their depths. 

They didn't belong to anyone from her sisters circle, that much she knew. He looked as though he didn't belong here at all—towering, imposing, and entirely unbothered by the attention he had just drawn.

He smirked cockily and Hermia's breath caught again, this time for an entirely different reason. Who is this man? she thought, unable to tear her gaze away from the stranger.

"Hello, Mia," he drawled, his deep voice carrying a velvety charm as a smirk curved his thin lips. It was the kind of smile that felt both alluring and dangerous, leaving her unsure whether to feel flattered or threatened.

Mia?! Her thoughts spun in confusion. 

How did he know her name? And why did he already have a nickname for her, as though they were acquainted?

Startled, Hermia squirmed, attempting to break free from his hold, but his grip was firm, almost effortless. 

Her heels skidded against the polished floor, betraying her struggle and making her lean more heavily into his arm.

Her face flushed with embarrassment as she realized how powerless she seemed in this moment.

"Careful," his deep voice rumbled, smooth yet dispassionate. His tone held neither mockery nor concern, only an indifferent acknowledgment of the moment.

She shuddered, her cheeks flaming, she looked away quickly wondering when he'll help her stand up straighter, he sure has the stamina to hold her this long, 

"You don't have to be shy with me," the mysterious savior drawled, his voice smooth as velvet, his piercing gaze brushing over her porcelain skin like a touch.

Hermia struggled to steady her breathing, but it was impossible. He smelled intoxicating—clean, crisp, with a hint of something darkly alluring. His hold was warm, firm, and strangely comforting, and the way he smiled down at her sent her pulse into a chaotic rhythm.

Her arms rested over his broad shoulders, stabilizing her. For a fleeting moment, she wanted to sink into his embrace, to press herself closer and lose herself in the sanctuary of his arms.

Someone had saved her. In a sea of wolves, a king had taken her side.

The hall fell into a stunned silence, heavy and electric. Chairs scraped against the floor as people rose, frozen in disbelief. 

Their curiosity burned in the air, thick with disbelief and tension, as all eyes zeroed in on the pair.

Who had the audacity to save the unwanted pest?

The stranger rose to his full height, lifting Hermia with effortless grace. 

Even with her feet now on the ground, his protective arm remained firmly around her waist, steadying her.

He was tall, towering over the onlookers, his broad shoulders exuding both power and elegance. 

His sleek, styled black hair gleamed under the soft lights, framing a face that was all sharp angles and striking symmetry. 

Dark brows arched over piercing cobalt-blue eyes that seemed to see through every soul in the room. 

His tailored suit fit him like a second skin, hinting at the perfectly rippled muscles beneath, a body crafted with just the right balance of strength and sophistication.

Niklaus Hathaway.

It was him. Niklaus Hathaway—billionaire heir, social royalty, and an untouchable force in their world. 

And he was standing there, shielding Hermia with an unyielding presence that screamed authority.

Gasps rippled through the crowd as realization set in. Their expressions burned red with jealousy, fury, and sheer shock.

"What is happening?" Selena demanded sharply, breaking the spell as she rose to her feet, her voice edged with panic.

But Niklaus barely spared her a glance. His focus remained on Hermia, his lips tilting into a faint smile that spoke of possession, protection, and something almost… tender.

"Does Niklaus Hathaway know her?"

"How does he know her?"

"Are they close? Or has she somehow woven her lies to gain his attention?"

The whispers rippled through the hall like venom, each word sharper than the last.

"Hermia, get out of his arms! What are you doing?" Selena wailed dramatically, her voice pitched high enough to draw even more eyes toward them.

"I'm sorry," Hermia stammered, her cheeks burning with embarrassment. 

She quickly stepped out of Niklaus's arms, her heart sinking as she felt the sudden coldness of being apart from him.

Niklaus's frown deepened at the loss, his icy blue eyes narrowing as his gaze snapped to Selena. 

The air grew thick with tension as Selena, caught off guard by his glower, instinctively took a shaky step back. 

Yet, despite her apprehension, a bright smile bloomed on her face. She was eager—desperate—to have his attention.

But Niklaus didn't linger. His head turned, his sharp profile cutting away from her, and his focus landed back on Hermia with a quiet intensity.

"Why did she fall into his arms?"

"I'm so jealous. It should've been me!"

"Is this why she came here? To seduce the most powerful man in the room?"

"Like mother, like daughter," someone sneered. "She's trying to charm him just like her mother tried to seduce her way into this family—and failed miserably."

Hermia stiffened at the jab, the familiar sting of her mother's reputation cutting into her like glass. It was a weapon the Blackwood family never hesitated to wield against her.

Her mother, as they constantly reminded her, was a "slut." A woman who couldn't stay loyal to her fiancé—Hermia's father—and ended up with another man. 

Her mother's infidelity, as they told it, was why the Blackwoods had rejected her, leaving Hermia to grow up as a stain on their pristine name.

But what Hermia never understood—and what no one dared to address—was the timeline.