Ophelia found Suite 1802 and knocked softly after a while; then the door opened immediately.
Tristan pulled her inside with surprising force, slamming the door shut behind her.
Before she could speak, he pinned her against it, his tall frame crowding her.
One hand gripped her waist while the other tilted her chin up.
His mouth crashed down on hers in a rough, demanding kiss.
It was their first kiss, making Ophelia stiffen in shock.
His lips were firm and insistent, tasting faintly of whiskey and smoke.
She hesitated, hands pressing weakly against his chest, trying to create space.
This wasn’t gentle, it was possessive, almost punishing, as if he were claiming something long overdue.
Tristan pulled back slightly, his pale grey eyes dark.
“Don’t hesitate with me.”
Ophelia pushed him harder, turning her face away.
Her chest heaved with emotion.
“I am a human being, Tristan! Not some toy you can use whenever you feel like it. You can’t just drag me up here and kiss me like that after everything after dressing me up like your property and throwing me on that stage without warning!”
Her voice rose, in rage “I have feelings. I have a life. You act like the contract gives you the right to ignore that I am a person!”
Tristan’s expression remained cold, but something flickered in his eyes.
“You signed the contract. As long as you are mine, you do what I want. That’s the deal.”
The words ignited fresh fury.
Tears burned Ophelia’s eyes as she spun toward the door.
“Then maybe I don’t want this anymore.”
She reached for the handle, but Tristan caught her wrist, turning her to face him.
“Why are you crying?”
She said nothing, lips pressed tightly together, tears slipping down her cheeks despite her efforts to stop them.
Tristan pulled her into a tight embrace, his arms wrapping around her with unexpected firmness.
“I wanted to punish you tonight,” he murmured against her hair.
Ophelia remained silent and rigid in his arms.
She didn’t pull away, but she didn’t soften either.
Her body stayed tense, unresponsive.
Tristan’s patience frayed as he tilted her head and kissed the shell of her ear, then trailed his lips down the sensitive skin of her neck, nipping lightly.
Still, she didn’t move, no gasp.
This seemed to piss him off more than her earlier outburst.
He released her abruptly and stepped back.
“Fine… Leave. I am not forcing you.”
Ophelia didn’t say a word.
She wiped her tears, adjusted her dress, and walked out of the suite without looking back.
The door clicked shut behind her.
Her heels echoed down the quiet hallway as she tried to steady her breathing.
The emotional whiplash left her drained of the high of the speech, the roughness of Tristan’s kiss, and the cold dismissal.
Everything felt too much.
Suddenly, a hand grabbed her arm.
“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” Nicholas’ voice was filled with irritation.
He had clearly followed her from the ballroom.
Ophelia snatched her arm away violently.
“Don’t touch me.”
Nicholas’s eyes narrowed.
“How dare you snatch your hand away from me like that?”
She stared at him, seven years of love and pain boiling over.
Nicholas’s expression remained dismissive, almost bored.
“Liora is better so you should move on.”
The casual cruelty hit like a fresh wound.
Ophelia’s heart ached, but she refused to let more tears fall in front of him.
“So get out! Stop being in my way…”
She fired at him, turned, and walked away without another word, pain radiating through her chest with every step.
She re-entered the ballroom, intending to find the exit and leave entirely.
But before she could slip away, a kind voice stopped her.
“Dr. Cater?” A tall, distinguished man in his mid-thirties approached, offering a warm smile.
“I am Dr. Adrian Vale, lead researcher at Helix Neurosciences. I wanted to say your speech tonight was outstanding. Your perspective on ethical innovation after scandals was exactly what this gala needed. I am particularly interested in your work on neural tissue repair.”
Ophelia managed a genuine smile, grateful for the kindness.
“Thank you, Dr. Vale. That means a lot right now.”
They chatted briefly about her research.
When he asked for her contact details, she gladly provided her card.
As she handed it over, she felt two intense stares burning into her from across the room.
Tristan and Nicholas were both watching her with no trace of amusement on either face.
Tristan’s grey eyes were cold and possessive.
Nicholas looked furious, his jaw clenched.
The sight sent a dark thrill through Ophelia.
For the first time tonight, she felt a spark of satisfaction.
Let them be pissed.
Let them see that she wasn’t entirely broken.
She turned back to Dr. Vale with a brighter smile, prolonging the conversation just a little longer, knowing full well the two men were still staring.