Unexpected Evidence

Selena's POV

Damian Cross just stood there, separated from the entire banquet's extravagance by an invisible wall. He was like a solitary black panther, coldly observing this glittering spectacle of designer gowns and champagne.

My heart pounded violently in my chest, not only because of the confrontation about to unfold, but also because of the man standing by the window. His broad, powerful arms and the scent of fir mixed with woodsmoke that clung to him seemed to linger still in my memory. He was my lifeline, and the ally I had to win over tonight.

I steadied my breathing as my skirt traced a quiet arc around my feet. The gazes around me were like countless searchlights, trying to penetrate the unusual composure I displayed tonight. I held that glass of non-alcoholic champagne and walked toward him without looking aside. I deliberately noted that he too held a glass of champagne in the same color.

"Mr. Cross." I stopped in front of him.

"Miss Windsor." He nodded slightly. His voice was deeper than I remembered, carrying a metallic quality. Those gray eyes settled on me like a calm lake surface.

"May I consult you on a legal matter?" I deliberately lowered my voice, letting this sentence dissolve only between the two of us. "This is just a hypothetical."

He didn't nod or make a sound, only looked at me with those cold, deep eyes, signaling me to continue.

"Hypothetically, if a minor heir has reason to suspect that the drink in her hand is problematic—for instance, that it might affect her health—does she have the right to request that a lawyer secure and preserve it for potential legal action?"

Like a pebble thrown into a lake surface. In his calm eyes, there arose a barely perceptible ripple. Looking more closely, there was a hint of scrutiny.

His gaze paused briefly on the wine glass in my hand, then returned to my face, his tone textbook-precise: "The law relies on evidence. Miss Windsor, suspicion without evidence is merely speculation."

"Speculation..." I repeated the word softly, showing an expression as if slightly disappointed by his refusal.

But at the moment of turning, the heel of my four-inch high heels "inadvertently" stepped on the hem of my floor-length black dress.

"Ah!"

I let out a perfectly timed low cry, my body instantly losing balance, falling uncontrollably toward his direction.

Damian's reaction was astonishingly fast. Almost instinctively, his long arm extended, precisely and powerfully catching my falling body. The wine glass in his other hand tilted slightly from this motion.

I crashed into a solid, cold embrace, my nose instantly enveloped by a sharp fir scent. My right hand instinctively pressed against his chest to steady myself, feeling the hard muscle lines beneath his suit. And my left hand holding the poisoned wine, under the perfect cover of his arm, collided with his wine glass that had moved closer when he caught me.

"Don't speak, switch drinks with me."

In his moment of astonishment, my nimble fingers swiftly exchanged the two identical glasses.

The entire process happened in a flash, perfectly concealed by our close bodies and chaotic posture.

"Sorry, I..." I raised my head, my warm breath almost brushing his jaw. We were too close—I could even see my own reflection in his deep gray pupils, slightly flustered but with bright eyes.

Damian's gaze suddenly darkened. He clearly sensed that momentary abnormality. His hand still firmly held my waist, the warmth from his palm almost penetrating through the thin fabric of my dress.

"Evidence," I said in a breath only the two of us could hear, rapidly speaking near his ear. "Now you have it, my lawyer."

Having said this, I immediately straightened up, imperceptibly pulling away from him, as if what just happened was merely a pure accident. What I now held was his clean drink. And that poisoned evidence was steadily gripped in his hand.

His face still showed no expression, but in those deep eyes flashed a trace of undisguised astonishment and... inquiry. He probably never imagined that the rumored foolish and willful Miss Windsor would use this method to pull him into the game.

He said nothing. Those eyes took on an almost dissecting scrutiny, as if trying to penetrate my soul.

I felt somewhat belatedly that I shouldn't have so rashly provoked him.

"Selena!"

An urgent and angry voice interrupted the tense silence between us. Kane Ashford strode over and grabbed my wrist.

"Are you alright? Did you sprain your ankle?" he asked anxiously, his gaze scanning me up and down, but soon he saw Damian beside me, and his brows immediately furrowed.

Kane's eyes were full of wariness and displeasure. I suddenly realized—my Kane, who was the center of attention at school and always full of spirit, when facing the silent Damian, that naturally born sense of superiority in him actually diminished by more than half. He was no longer the focal point controlling the entire scene, but rather like a young alpha suddenly outranked by someone with real power.

Why would he react this way to Damian?

I couldn't help but look at Damian a couple more times. He just stood there quietly, yet possessed an aura as heavy as a mountain, invisibly suppressing Kane's outward sharpness.

This action of mine seemed to infuriate Kane. His grip on my wrist tightened, and he pulled my attention back to himself with dissatisfaction: "Selena! I'm talking to you!"

Then, almost provocatively, he looked at Damian, his tone stiff: "Mr. Cross, this is none of your business."

There was a subtle confrontation in the air. What was Kane doing—was he staking his claim? Wasn't this a bit too ridiculous?

At this moment, I felt the wise choice would be for me to withdraw.

However, Damian spoke. "Miss Windsor was just consulting me on legal matters. My time belongs to my employer."

His gaze was bland, yet carried a compelling pressure. With one sentence, he not only dissolved Kane's provocation into nothingness, but also clearly stated his position—he was "my person."

Kane's expression instantly became somewhat unpleasant.

And I, watching this dramatic scene unfold before me, felt for the first time that this family lawyer of mine, always cold as ice, seemed far more reliable than I had imagined.