The True Heiress Leaves The Billionaire

Jett stopped directly in front of Calista.

His tall, broad frame blocked out the light from the chandeliers, casting a heavy, suffocating shadow over her.

Patty and Gus instantly shrank back. The arrogant sneers vanished from their faces, replaced by nervous, fawning smiles.

"Good evening, Jett," Patty stammered.

Calista looked up at her husband. Her eyes were red-rimmed. A tiny, desperate spark of hope flared in her chest. She waited for him to defend her.

Jett's eyes were like frozen steel. He didn't look at Calista. He looked at the relatives.

"This is a public event," Jett said. His voice was dangerously low. "There are Wall Street Journal reporters outside those doors."

He took a half step forward.

"Watch your behavior. Do not embarrass the Holder family," he ordered.

Patty turned pale. She nodded frantically. She and Gus practically scurried backward, disappearing into the crowd.

Calista let out a shaky breath. Her tense shoulders dropped a fraction of an inch. He had stepped in. He had stopped them.

"Thank you," Calista whispered.

Jett slowly turned his head to look at her.

There was no comfort in his eyes. He looked at her like she was a stain on the floor.

"Don't start trouble at this partnership gala," Jett warned. His voice was thick with annoyance.

The blood drained from Calista's face. Her heart stopped beating for a full second.

"I didn't start it," Calista said, her voice cracking. "They came over here and-"

"Jett!"

A soft, panicked cry cut through the air.

Kassandra was hurrying toward them. Suddenly, the heel of her shoe caught on the hem of her heavy silver dress. She pitched forward.

Jett moved with terrifying speed.

He lunged forward and caught Kassandra firmly by the waist before her knees could hit the marble floor.

Kassandra collapsed against his chest. Her hands gripped the lapels of his custom tuxedo tightly.

The cold annoyance vanished from Jett's face entirely. His jaw unclenched.

"Are you hurt?" Jett asked. His voice was incredibly soft. "Did you twist your ankle?"

Kassandra shook her head weakly, looking up at him with wide, innocent eyes. But from the corner of her eye, she shot a vicious, triumphant glare straight at Calista.

Calista stood three feet away.

She watched her husband hold another woman with the tenderness he had never, not once, shown her.

Her fingernails dug so hard into her palms that the skin broke. She felt like a sick joke.

Jett helped Kassandra stand upright. He turned his head back to Calista. The warmth in his eyes died instantly.

"Go to the restroom and fix your makeup," Jett commanded coldly. "You look like a ghost. It's an eyesore."

The words were a serrated knife sliding between her ribs.

A few women standing nearby covered their mouths, failing to hide their quiet giggles.

The air was sucked out of Calista's lungs. She couldn't stay in this room for another second.

She didn't say a word. She spun around, shoved past a waiter, and practically ran toward the long hallway.

Kassandra watched Calista's retreating back. The corners of her mouth twitched upward into a dark smile.

"I need to go fix my dress," Kassandra whispered to Jett.

She let go of his arm and quietly followed Calista out the doors.