The Tycoon's Secret Wife's Escape

Isabella

54%

58

The day after receiving the invitations for the awards night, I turned to Grayson and asked in a hopeful tone, "Will I see you there?"

I longed to be with him, especially if I ended up receiving my award that evening. Even if I didn't, having him there would lift my spirits.

"I'll be there with you," he assured me, gently patting my head.

Later that afternoon, Grayson received his invitation, hand-delivered by the head organizer of the event.

"Wow! You've got the official invitation?" I exclaimed, surprised he had one.

"Of course," he replied. "The organizers approach us every year for sponsorships.

My company didn't participate last year because I was too busy, but I sponsored part of it this year. In exchange, they're advertising the jewelry business I manage."

I blinked, intrigued. "I did hear a jewelry brand was one of the sponsors, but I had no idea you owned a jewelry business!"

Grayson gave a casual shrug.

I slid my arms around his waist, tilting my head to meet his gaze. "So, Mr. Blake, how busy are you these days? Is that why you barely have time for your adorable wife and always travel abroad?"

His lips curved into a smile. "I've been here with you for days, haven't I?"

I pouted, but he quickly countered with a kiss, leaving my lips tender by the time

he pulled away. He lifted me onto the table and then settled into the chair in front of me, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

Trying to distract myself, I picked up Grayson's invitation to read it.

"Hmmm..." I muttered, reaching for my phone to compare both invitations. A frown crept onto my face as I spotted the issue-the event times didn't match.

"Could the email I received be fake? Like spam? I'll forward it to Sophia to double-check," I said, leaning into Grayson's embrace as his arm tightened around my waist. The warmth of his touch made it impossible to ignore how much he wanted me-it had been days since we'd been stuck in this cozy hotel suite.

"According to what I heard, they need to fill every seat in each row," Grayson muttered as he nuzzled my neck.

"I thought the seating arrangement was supposed to be reserved?"

"It is. But things get tricky with VIPs bringing unexpected plus-ones, like in this case,” he explained. “In the past, their plus- ones often ended up in Class A general seating since they weren't planned for it, but you can't treat VIP guests that way. They can't reserve extra seats for every potential plus-one, either. Empty seats at the front can make it look like the event wasn't fully attended."

0

"Oh," I said, understanding dawning on me. "And if the cameras catch that, it might reflect badly on the event. Fi.. the rows makes it look more polished, doesn't it?"

"Exactly. It's all about appearances," Grayson said with a small smile, his lips grazing my skin.

"So that means... I'm your plus-one?" I teased.

He nodded, pressing a kiss just below my collarbone.

19:41 Sat, 12 Apr

* 5458

"Grayson, no hickeys," I warned with a soft laugh, lightly pushing him back. "The gown I ordered has a heart-shaped neckline. I can't have any marks showing!"

"They'll fade," he assured me, continuing his attentions.

Despite my half-hearted protest, I couldn't help but melt into his affection. He was my handsome, loving husband, and I adored how he couldn't keep his hands-or lips-off me.

Grayson knew exactly what he was doing. When the red gown I ordered arrived with apparent issues, his personal stylist appeared at our hotel with an even more stunning dress adorned with gemstones-the one I'm wearing now.noveldrama

The elegant gown masked the marks of fresh hickeys, but then I realized something was wrong with the gown I had initially ordered. I couldn't shake the feeling that someone was out to sabotage me. Charlotte's face flashed in my mind.

As I stepped out of the sleek black luxury car at the event, fans screamed from a distance, held back by security and barriers.

"Isabella!" they shouted, and I smiled brightly, waving like a princess in their direction.

Camera operators surrounded me, their flashes blinding. I posed for magazines, tabloids, or whatever outlets would make use of the photos.

"Isabella, this is probably the most gorgeous gown I've seen today! Wow!" a reporter exclaimed. I flashed a sweet smile in

response.

"Who is your designer? What would you like to say to your fans?" the reporter asked, firing off a series of questions.

"To my fans, I promise to keep doing my best," I responded warmly. "I'll stay humble and strong, someone you can be proud of. Thank you all for your incredible support."

"Thank you, Isabella!" the reporter said, concluding our interaction.

Fans continued to cheer, and I could already tell that my look for the night had gone viral on social media.

As a VIP couple entered the venue, an organizer stopped me as I approached.

"Isabella Prescott, there are no longer any available seats for you in this area," she said. "You'll need to enter through the Class A general audience gate. You'll be seated with some minor celebrities in the upper section, as we can no longer accommodate you with a reserved seat because you are late."

I was expecting this. After all, I had prepared for it today.

I kept my composure. "I'm thirty minutes early. Could you please call Mr. Murphy

for me? Maybe he can sort this out."

"No, he can't do anything. Don't waste our time!" she snapped.

After noticing the tension, fans began shouting at her from the entrance, even from a distance.

"Mr. Murphy is an heir to the Golden Stage. Surely, you wouldn't want to offend them, would you?" I said, keeping my tone firm. "We should explain the situation, don't you think?"

Annoyed, the woman huffed and walked away, likely realizing the weight of my words.

I kept smiling as if the problem didn't faze me, but my actions irritated the organizers. They now think I'm a manipulative woman trying to use underhanded tactics to get into an important event.

Just then, Grayson stepped out of the car and headed toward the security entrance, where I was waiting.

19.41 Sat, 12 Apt

And now, the act begins.