Chapter 5 - The Snake in the Glass
The Governor's Winter Gala was held in the grand ballroom of the Imperial Palace Hotel—a glittering spectacle of ice sculptures, crystal chandeliers, and three hundred of the most powerful politicians, billionaires, and aristocrats in the nation.
Camera flashbulbs exploded like lightning as Tariq’s limousine pulled up to the red carpet.
Inside the vehicle, Chloe looked down at her hands.
She was wearing a custom gown of emerald-green silk, cut with immaculate modesty—long sheer sleeves embroidered with tiny emerald crystals, a high modest neckline, and a sweeping train that hugged her slender waist perfectly. On her left ring finger sparkled a flawless, twenty-carat canary diamond ring that drew every ray of light in the room.
"Nervous?" Tariq asked gently, reaching across the leather seat to take her hand.
His fingers were large, warm, and strong. Chloe looked down at their joined hands, feeling an odd, comforting surge of warmth rush through her chest.
"Terrified," Chloe admitted truthfully. "I’m used to crying toddlers and iodine stains, Tariq. Not photographers and billionaires who want to tear me apart."
Tariq squeezed her hand firmly. "Look at me, Chloe."
She raised her brown eyes to meet his.
"You are the strongest person in that room tonight," Tariq said, his voice filled with absolute sincerity. "None of those people have ever fought for anything in their lives. You fight for lives every single day. Do not bow your head to any of them."
Chloe felt a lump form in her throat. For her whole life, she had been the caretaker, the protector, the quiet worker whom everyone took for granted. Hearing the most powerful man in the region speak to her with such deep, profound respect did something to her heart that no contract could explain.
"Okay," she whispered, a small, beautiful smile touching her lips. "I'm ready."
When they stepped onto the red carpet, the press went wild.
"Sheikh Tariq! Is it true? Are you engaged?"
"Miss Bennett! How did a pediatric nurse captivate the Viper of Wall Street?"
Tariq didn't answer the shouts. He kept his arm wrapped firmly around Chloe’s waist, escorting her into the grand ballroom like a precious jewel.
For the first two hours, Chloe handled the crowd with remarkable grace. She spoke simply, intelligently, and warmly to diplomats and foreign dignitaries, winning over several elder members of the corporate board with her genuine sweetness and deep knowledge of global pediatric healthcare needs.
Tariq watched her from across the room, a glass of sparkling water in his hand, his heart beating with an unfamiliar, rapid rhythm. She was glowing. She didn't need designer jewels or aristocratic titles to shine; her pure heart was a beacon in a sea of fake gold.
However, in the shadows near the balcony, Sora and Rashid were watching.
"She’s winning over Sheikh Omar," Rashid muttered angrily, watching as an elder council member laughed warmly at one of Chloe's stories. "If Omar votes for Tariq at the summit, we lose everything."
Sora’s eyes flashed with venomous cruelty. "Don't worry, Father. The nurse is about to embarrass herself so badly she’ll run back to her clinic in tears."
Ten minutes later, as Tariq was pulled into a high-level conversation with the Prime Minister near the stage, Chloe stepped toward the refreshment bar to get a glass of iced water.
Sora smoothly intercepted her, flanked by three wealthy young socialites holding champagne flutes.
"Well, well," Sora sneered, stepping into Chloe's path. "The little charity case is trying to play princess tonight."
Chloe stopped, keeping her posture straight. "Miss Rashid. I hope you're enjoying the evening."
"Oh, cut the sweet nurse act," Sora snapped, stepping closer, her voice loud enough to attract the attention of nearby guests. "We all know why you’re here. You sold yourself to Tariq to pay off your mother's cheap hospital bill. How much is he paying you to pretend to love him, Chloe? A hundred thousand? A million?"
A sudden, uncomfortable hush fell over the surrounding crowd. Whispers broke out among the aristocrats.
Chloe felt her cheeks burn, but she remembered Tariq’s words in the car. She took a deep breath, looked Sora dead in the eye, and spoke in a clear, calm voice that carried across the quiet ballroom.
"My mother's life is priceless, Miss Rashid," Chloe said steadily. "And unlike you, I know the value of hard work, family, and loyalty. If you think wealth is measured by the size of your dress allowance rather than the lives you impact, then I feel truly sorry for you."
Several elder board members standing nearby nodded approvingly, murmuring in admiration at Chloe’s dignified response.
Sora’s face twisted in pure rage. She had intended to humiliate Chloe, but had instead been publicly humiliated herself.
Driven by blind fury, Sora raised her champagne glass, intending to drench Chloe's emerald gown in dark red wine in front of three hundred cameras.
"You pathetic little—" Sora shrieked.
Before the wine could leave the glass, a massive hand shot out from the side, grabbing Sora’s wrist in mid-air with an iron grip.
Wine splashed backward, drenching Sora’s own blood-red designer dress instead.
Sora gasped in shock, dropping the crystal glass. It shattered on the marble floor.
Tariq stood over her, his dark face looking like a thundercloud of pure, lethal wrath. His grip on Sora’s wrist was so firm she whimpered in pain.
"T-Tariq!" Sora stammered, terror instantly replacing her rage.
"If you ever step within ten feet of my wife again," Tariq whispered, his voice so dark and terrifying that even the music in the ballroom seemed to stop, "I will dismantle your father's estate brick by brick before sunrise. Get out of my sight."
He shoved her wrist away. Sora turned and fled the ballroom in tears, her soaked dress clinging to her legs as the crowd watched in silence.
Tariq turned immediately to Chloe. His terrifying demeanor melted away instantly, replaced by intense concern.
He cupped her cheek with his warm palm, his dark eyes searching hers. "Are you hurt? Did she touch you?"
Chloe looked up at him, her heart thumping wildly against her ribs. In his eyes, she saw no cold tycoon, no ruthless sheikh. She saw a man who had shielded her honor before the entire world.
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"I'm okay," Chloe whispered softly, laying her small hand over his on her cheek. "I'm okay, Tariq."
Tariq stared at her lips, his breath hitching. In that moment, surrounded by three hundred powerful onlookers, the contract ceased to exist. All that existed was the woman in his arms.
