Chapter 5

Abby Talley POV:

The slap still stung, a physical reminder of the life I' d narrowly escaped. I kept my hand pressed to my cheek, a futile attempt to cool the burning sensation, but more so to hide the angry red mark from the prying eyes of the crowd. Every whisper felt like a needle, every stare a judgment.

Jana, ever the performer, continued to lean heavily on Connor, her face a picture of fragile innocence. She shot me a look over his shoulder, her eyes shimmering with a victory she believed was absolute. She thought she had won. She had no idea the game had just begun.

Connor, for his part, seemed to have regained his composure. The brief flicker of panic had been replaced by a smug certainty. He' d crossed a line, yes, but in his mind, it was a line I had forced him to cross. He saw my silence now not as defiance, but as submission.

"Get ready," he whispered to his sycophants, his voice filled with arrogant confidence. "The real celebration is about to begin."

He believed this was all a prelude to our engagement. He believed I was just putting on a show.

The Herald, regaining his footing after Brannon' s silent dismissal, stepped forward once more. His eyes darted nervously between the three of us-me, the silent, bruised woman; Connor, the preening heir apparent; and Brannon, the cold, menacing shadow.

"As per the final testament of the late, great Robert Talley," the Herald began, his voice resonating through the now-silent ballroom, "and as a gesture of immense gratitude from our CEO, Howard Barrett, it is time for Abby Talley to secure the future of her father' s legacy."

He unrolled a small, ornate scroll. "Miss Talley, you are presented with a choice. To honor the debt owed and to forge a powerful alliance, you may choose to be joined with one of the heirs of the Barrett Corporation."

He paused, his gaze sweeping over the two brothers. "Please state your choice."

All eyes were on me. The weight of their expectation was a physical pressure, a suffocating blanket. I could feel Connor' s smirk without even looking at him. He took a half-step forward, ready to accept his prize.

I took a deep breath, steeling myself. This was it. The moment that would change everything. The pivot upon which my new life would turn.

"I choose Brannon Walls."

The words, though spoken softly, landed with the force of a physical blow. A collective, audible gasp swept through the room. It was a sound of pure, unadulterated shock.

Connor froze, his confident posture collapsing. The smirk on his face dissolved, replaced by a slack-jawed disbelief. "What?" he choked out, the word barely a whisper. "No. That' s... that' s not right. Tell them, Abby! Tell them you made a mistake!"

The Herald looked at me, his own surprise evident. "Miss Talley, please confirm your choice for the record."

I looked past Connor, past the sea of stunned faces, and met Brannon' s gaze. His dark eyes were wide, the cold mask of indifference shattered by a flicker of something I couldn' t quite name. Astonishment? Hope?

"I confirm my choice," I said, my voice ringing with unshakable certainty. "I choose Brannon."

Connor let out a strangled cry, a sound of pure agony and rage. "No! It' s a trick! She' s mine! She' s always been mine!" He lunged for me, his face twisted into a grotesque mask of fury, his hands reaching for my throat.

But he never reached me.

A black-suited arm shot out, intercepting him. Brannon moved with blinding speed, his hand clamping down on Connor' s wrist. There was a sickening crack of bone, and Connor screamed, a high, piercing sound of pain and outrage.

Brannon said nothing. He simply squeezed, his expression dark and unreadable, until Connor sank to his knees, cradling his broken wrist.

"The choice has been made," Brannon' s voice was a low growl, a promise of violence held barely in check. He looked down at his whimpering brother with utter contempt.

Then, he turned to me. His eyes, dark and intense, searched my face. He gently reached out, his fingers hovering just over the red mark on my cheek, not quite touching, as if he were afraid to cause me more pain.

"Are you sure?" he asked, his voice softer than I had ever heard it.

"I' ve never been more sure of anything in my life," I replied, and for the first time since my rebirth, I felt a flicker of something other than pain and anger.

I felt hope.