Collision
The crystal chandeliers of the Hart Foundation Gala sparkled like stars, but Isabella Hart felt nothing but the weight of eyes on her. Every step in her black silk gown was deliberate—measured confidence masking the storm underneath.
Tonight was supposed to be about her father’s empire. A celebration of power, wealth, and legacy.
But then she felt it.
That stare.
She froze halfway across the marble floor, the sound of champagne glasses and polite laughter fading into a dull roar. Across the room, a man stood with his hands tucked casually into the pockets of his tailored suit. Dark hair. Broad shoulders. Eyes like ice trained on her as though the years had never passed.
Damian Cole.
Her breath caught. The boy she once knew was long gone. In his place was a man carved from steel—ruthless, untouchable, radiating danger in every calm, calculated movement.
Her father’s voice snapped her out of the trance. “Bella, smile. Our investors are watching.”
She obeyed, flashing the poised grin everyone expected of the Hart heiress, but her hands trembled around the stem of her glass.
Damian was here.
After all these years.
And he wasn’t just watching—he was waiting.
Their eyes locked, and something unspoken passed between them. Recognition. Resentment. A spark that tasted too much like fire.
She wanted to turn away. She wanted to run. But her heels betrayed her, carrying her closer as if drawn by a force stronger than reason.
“Isabella Hart,” Damian said when she finally reached him, his voice low, smooth, and laced with mockery. “Still playing the perfect princess, I see.”
Her chin lifted, pride flaring despite the chill in her veins. “And you… still crashing parties where you don’t belong.”
He smirked, the corner of his mouth curling in that infuriating way she remembered. “Oh, darling… I belong everywhere your father wishes I didn’t.”
The music swelled around them, but the air between them tightened like a noose.
Bella’s pulse hammered. Damian’s gaze was steady, unreadable.
He had come back.
Not for her.
For revenge.
