Maya, on the other hand, leaned in just a little closer than necessary. Her fingers tightened slightly in his, her smile bright enough to fool anyone watching but not him; his gaze flicked over her shoulder, instinctively searching for her.
Maya noticed.
The music carried on around them, elegant, smooth, but between them, it felt like a silent standoff, though they moved in rhythm, they couldn't have been more out of sync.
"You really can't look away from her, can you?" she whispered, voice low enough to keep it private. "She didn't even greet you. You're practically invisible to her."
Elio's eyes finally dropped to meet hers, "That's none of your concern."
Maya gave a soft, bitter laugh. "Isn't it? After all, I'm the one you chose to bring attention to tonight."
"But I didn't choose you," he said flatly. "You just made yourself unavoidable."
Her smile slipped.
From across the room, Isabella stood beside her father, nodding politely through conversation, holding a glass of champagne she hadn't sipped.
But her eyes drifted, just once, and they landed on them, Maya pressing just a little too close, smiling. That smile she wore when she wanted the world to believe something true. Elio was perfectly composed but not present, his body moved, but his mind was somewhere else.
Her lips remained still, her expression unreadable. After years of training, society events, and cameras, she knew how to wear the perfect face.
But something tugged beneath it, the way Elio was looking at her, quiet but intense. Still, she refused to give in to curiosity or emotion.
She turned back to the conversation at her side, nodding at something her father said, placing her untouched glass on the tray of a passing waiter. As she walked away from the dance floor, she quietly excused herself from the growing crowd. Her heels clicked lightly against the marble as she made her way toward the private corridor leading to the restrooms.
She needed a moment away from the eyes, the noise, the unspoken tension; she didn't even check if anyone was watching, but someone was. Elio's hand dropped from Maya's waist mid-turn.
"Excuse me," he said without looking at her.
Maya frowned. "Seriously? In the middle of"
He didn't answer. He was already walking, leaving Maya dumbfounded.
He moved through the crowd like a shadow, silent but deliberate, eyes fixed on the slim figure ahead slipping around the corner, the noise of the party faded behind him.
In the hallway, Isabella paused at the mirror outside the restroom. Her reflection stared back, composed, but her fingers were tense against the marble counter.
"Ella," came his voice from behind her.
She didn't turn immediately.
He stepped closer, stopping a few feet away. His presence filled the quiet space like static in the air.
"I wasn't sure if you'd even look at me tonight," he said, voice low.
She finally met his eyes through the mirror.
"Hi, Elio," she replied, just as calm.
The silence between them was heavier than the music behind the doors, and everything they hadn't said hung between them like a thread stretched tight.
Elio stepped closer, his voice low, steady.
"You didn't say hello earlier."
Isabella didn't turn. "I don't need a reason to and my dad was there so…"
"I was hoping to see you here," he muttered silently
She looked up at him through the mirror, her eyes unreadable, but something flickered. "Hope's never really been your style, is it?"
He stepped beside her now, not touching, but close enough that the air shifted. "It is when it comes to you, Ella"
Isabella turned slowly to face him, her arms crossing, more to steady herself than to keep him out.
"Ella," he said, almost whispering.
She paused, the nickname always disarmed her a little more than she liked. Still, she kept her posture straight, her expression distant.
"Don't call me that," she stated.
"Ella," he whispered again, getting closer to her.
"What did you think you were doing," She swallowed.
There is a long silence between them.
Her eyes flicked up to his, just for a second, and in that moment, the walls she tried so hard to hold trembled.
"Elio, what did you think you were doing?" she said again trying to look serious.
"You still feel it, right?" he said, stepping slightly closer, his voice rough. "I see it in your eyes. You just won't admit it."
She didn't respond. Her breath came just a little too quickly. Her hands stayed clenched at her sides.
"Ella," he said again, gentler this time. "you know… Since that day, everything I have been trying to hold back on for years escalated."
He looked at her with longing; Ella avoided his eyes and stepped around him slowly, brushing past with a touch that lingered more than it should have; she didn't look back.
And Elio stood there in the silence, heart thudding, knowing she wasn't as far gone as she wanted to be.
As Isabella stepped back into the ballroom, the lights felt a little too bright, the music a little too loud, and her face returned to its polished calm, but inside, her heart was still unsettled, still echoing Elio's words, the way he calls her name only father calls her that.
She spotted her father across the room, deep in conversation, commanding presence as always. She straightened her posture, adjusted her expression, and moved toward him.
Each step was measured; she had perfected this for years; her father turned and gave her a warm nod, his hand resting briefly on her back as she stood beside him, and yet Elio's presence still clung to her, her smile returned for the guests around her.
Mr. Scott glanced at his daughter as she stood quietly beside him. She looked poised, calm, smiling when necessary, but he knew her too long to miss the subtle signs.
Her fingers fidgeted slightly with the ring on her hand. Her gaze flicked toward the crowd but never truly settled. And when she laughed, it didn't reach her eyes.
He leaned in slightly and spoke just low enough for only her to hear.
"Ella, Are you alright?" her father said
She blinked, then gave him a smile. "Nothing, Dad. Just a little tired."
He looked at her again getting worried
She smiles, "It's fine, Dad, really."
Minutes passed, but Isabella's silence deepened. Mr Scott kept watching her, how her eyes followed nothing in particular, how she shifted on her heels more than usual. She was trying hard to stay composed, but for a man who had raised her, the signs were clear.
He leaned in again, voice calm but firm.
"That's enough for tonight," he said.
She looked up, surprised. "Dad"
"You're not yourself," he interrupted gently. "And I don't like seeing you like this."
Before she could argue, he was already turning to shake hands with a few familiar faces. One by one, he gave polite nods and warm farewells, moving with his usual confidence.
And then to Mr Bartlett, "Happy birthday once again," he said.
Mr Bartlett smiles, "Thank you for coming"
Mr Scott walked up to his daughter, and Isabella followed beside him; as they exited the grand ballroom, her heart was both grateful and heavy.
The cool night air greeted them, the flash of cameras dulled, and the music softened behind closed doors.
Their car was already outside waiting, and the chauffeur opened the door.
Mr. Scott looked at her once more, studying her face. "Take your time to rest when we get home," he said simply.
She nodded and stepped inside the car, and as the car pulled away from the golden lights of the ballroom, Isabella allowed herself one small, silent breath of relief. But Elio's voice still echoed in her chest, his words still ringing in her ears; what Elio said was true since "that day" she hadn't been herself. Since the dispute between her father and Elio's father. She avoided him by every possible means, but after that event two months ago, it was like something stirred inside of her. All the feelings she has buried deep inside her are boiling up again. Since then she hasn't been herself.
Before she knew it, they were at the gate. The chauffeur opened the door, greeted her father good night, and went straight to her room.
Back in the restroom
Elio turned away from the mirror, ready to return to the ballroom, emotionally tangled but composed.
Then he saw Maya leaning casually against the wall. She was at the end of the corridor, arms folded, watching him with an expression that was a part amusement, a part accusation.
"How sweet," she said, stepping forward slowly. "The cold CEO still melts for just one woman."
Elio didn't flinch. "Did you follow me?"
Maya shrugged. "You left me mid-dance without a word. Thought I'd see what dragged you away."
He said nothing, just watched her.
Her eyes narrowed slightly. "It was her, wasn't it?"
Still no answer, but his silence was damning.
"You know," she said, voice tightening, "you're playing this game like I don't exist. But I do. I'm right here, Elio. I've always been."
He met her gaze, cool and detached. "Game" he scolded."This was like a game to you"
She tilted her head, stepping closer, "if not, then what it is," she smirked.
Elio said nothing. But that was enough to answer.
Maya's smiles faded and her lips pressed into a line. "You're still chasing a girl who treats you like a ghost.
Elio didn't answer.
Just then, his phone buzzed in his pocket; Elio pulled it out and glanced at the screen.
He answered curtly. "Yes?"
"Sir," the driver said, "Miss Isabella has exited the ballroom. She left in her father's car a few minutes ago."
His hand dropped slightly, phone still pressed to his ear. For a brief moment, something shifted in his expression.
Maya continues.
"You think I'm feisty and annoying. I get that," she said. "But at least I see you, Elio, and I wouldn't make you beg for space in my world."
Elio stepped past her without a word.
"I'm not done," she called after him.
"But I am," he replied coldly, walking away without a glance back.
Maya stood there, alone in the silence, burning, she stood still, her breath caught in frustration. But he didn't look back; he pulled out his phone as he reached the hallway, and he pressed a single button.
"Bring the car around," he said coldly.
"Yes, sir," the chauffeur replied.
He walked straight through the ballroom, ignoring the music, the lights, and the lingering eyes. No goodbyes
The black car was already waiting outside. The driver opened the door. Elio got in, leaned back, and closed his eyes for a moment as the door shut behind him. As the car pulled away his eyes stayed fixed on the window.
He hated how the night ended.
He hated that he barely got five minutes alone with Isabella, just enough to stir everything back up, and not enough to do a damn thing about it.
He hated the way Maya was always inserting herself around him. But most of all, he hated the helplessness, the feeling of being close, but never close enough. He spent months chasing a chance to be near Isabella, only to have it snatched away.
He loosened his tie angrily and muttered under his breath, "What a damn waste of a night."
Elio closed his eyes briefly, trying to wash away the anger, the frustration, but it lingered, sharp and stubborn. "To the penthouse," he said with a long sigh.
"Yes sir" the chauffeur answered
Scott's Estate
The next morning at Scott's estate light slowly filled the rooms. The sky outside was bright, but inside the house, things felt quiet and heavy.
Isabella sat at the long dining table, still wearing her silk robe. Her plate was full, but she hadn't touched the food. Her coffee had gone cold. She looked tired, like someone who hadn't slept all night.
She kept her eyes down, gently circling the edge of her cup with her fingers. Her mind was far away. Back to the ballroom. Back to the moment, Elio had called her "Ella" in that quiet hallway. Back to her way out as she walked away, her heart was still racing.