Empire of Desire: An Alpha’s Financial Reign - Chapter 49

The charity gala was a grand affair. A glittering venue bathed in golden light, it buzzed with the quiet hum of refined voices and clinking champagne flutes. Celebrities, dignitaries, and socialites mingled under crystal chandeliers, each dressed to impress, each aware of the unspoken competition for attention.

Ni Jia arrived with quiet elegance, her hand resting lightly on her brother’s arm as they entered the hall. Her hair was meticulously styled in soft waves that cascaded over her shoulders, one strand artfully draped across her collarbone, accentuating her slender neck. She wore a midnight-blue gown that shimmered under the lights like stardust scattered across satin.

The dress, form-fitting and simple in design, demanded perfection from its wearer—and Ni Jia delivered flawlessly. Her fair skin glowed against the dark fabric, and the curve of her waist, the length of her legs, the tilt of her chin—all spoke of confidence, poise, and understated allure.

As she turned slightly to greet a guest, the hem of her gown followed in a graceful ripple, like waves responding to the moon’s pull. She was a vision of grace, composed and radiant, a silent but undeniable center of attention.

Elsewhere in the venue, Han Jae-kyung sat before a vanity mirror backstage, allowing the stylists to work their art. Her face needed little enhancement—her features were already striking—but makeup gave her an even sharper edge. Her hair was styled into a sleek wolf-cut that spilled over her shoulders in tousled layers, blending wildness with elegance. Her outfit was anything but ordinary.

A tailored black suit jacket sat atop a deep V-neck vest—without a shirt beneath—exposing the sculpted lines of her chest. The juxtaposition of masculine tailoring and sensual exposure created a magnetic tension that demanded attention.

When she entered the gala, time seemed to still.

Conversations faltered. Heads turned. The temperature in the room subtly shifted as eyes locked on her figure.

Han Zaijing walked through the hall with effortless confidence. Every step she took was measured, fluid, assured. She didn’t need to demand attention—it found her naturally, drawn like a moth to flame. Her mere presence stirred the air with electricity.

Ni Kuang, standing off to the side with a drink in hand, watched her approach and murmured to himself, “The devil has arrived.”

She entered his circle of conversation, exchanging greetings with other well-dressed Alphas. There were no Omegas in this particular cluster—only powerful minds and sharper tongues, discussing strategies, innovations, and politics. Yet even here, Han Zaijing stood out.

From across the hall, Ni Jia found her gaze repeatedly drawn to that tall figure leaning casually against a marble column. Han Zaijing’s long legs were crossed, one hand tucked into her trouser pocket, the other loosely holding a glass. The hem of her jacket had ridden up slightly, revealing just a sliver of her defined abs beneath the vest. There was something primal about it—strength cloaked in refinement.

Ni Jia clenched her glass tighter. She hated how her heart fluttered just watching that woman. Her mind screamed indifference, but her body betrayed her—her gaze lingered, her pulse quickened.

She tried to ignore it. Tried to focus on polite conversation with the local mayor and a businesswoman beside her. She smiled at the appropriate moments, nodded at the right cues, but her thoughts drifted back to Han Zaijing again and again.

She was waiting—expecting that Han Zaijing would approach her like she always did, uninvited but confident, with some teasing remark and that infuriating smile. But tonight, Han Zaijing didn’t make a move. She stayed where she was, quiet, even aloof.

What was more unsettling was that the Omegas in the room couldn’t stop watching her. Even though they couldn’t enter the Alpha-dominated circle Han Zaijing held court in, their eyes followed her like heat-seeking missiles—some filled with admiration, others with barely restrained desire.

And shockingly, even the other Alphas looked at her with a kind of hungry ambition—as though imagining how it would feel to match her in bed, or on the battlefield of influence.

Ni Jia’s breath hitched. Jealousy and confusion surged within her. What right did she have to feel this way? She told herself she didn’t care—but she did. Deeply.

The party swelled with energy. Music danced between the chandeliers, laughter bubbled up in pockets, and glasses chimed in celebration. Han Zaijing appeared more relaxed than usual, her posture slightly slouched, her movements slower, more languid—drunk, perhaps, or pretending to be.

She leaned against an Alpha beside her, smiling lazily, her body language flirtatious but controlled. She cast not a single glance at Ni Jia.

And yet, Ni Jia felt watched. Hunted.

Finally, their eyes met across the crowd. It lasted only seconds, but something charged passed between them. A flicker of surprise in Han Zaijing’s expression. Then a gentle smile—calm, unreadable.

Moments later, Han Zaijing made a casual exit. Ni Kuang leaned in and told his sister, “She had to leave early—something urgent.”

Ni Jia turned abruptly, just in time to catch Han Zaijing’s retreating figure. She hesitated for only a breath before setting down her glass and following her, the hem of her dress sweeping behind her like a shadow. Her chest tightened with each step.

Outside, the night wind swept through the city, catching in Han Zaijing’s loosened tie. She stood at the curb, waiting for a ride, hands in her pockets, her vest open to the night air. The streetlight cast golden shadows across her collarbone and exposed chest.

“Han Zaijing!” Ni Jia called out.

Han Zaijing turned, one brow arching with cool amusement. “It’s windy. You should go back inside.”

Ni Jia narrowed her eyes. “Why did you leave?”

She didn’t say what she truly wanted to—Why didn’t you come to me tonight?

Han Zaijing’s gaze swept over her with a slow intensity that made Ni Jia’s skin prickle. “I didn’t want to be accused again—of being a pervert, a stalker, or worse. I thought I’d try keeping my distance for once.”

Her words were teasing, but her voice was soft, almost tender.

Just as Han Zaijing was about to step into her car, Ni Jia crossed the distance and reached for her. Her arms wrapped around Han Zaijing’s neck, and she pressed her forehead to the woman’s shoulder, voice trembling, “I won’t allow it.”

Tears slid down Ni Jia’s cheeks and soaked into Han Zaijing’s skin, burning hotter than any scalding touch.

Han Zaijing held her close, her breath grazing Ni Jia’s ear. “Come with me… just like before.”

And Ni Jia did.

That night, in the quiet sanctuary of a hotel room, Han Zaijing left her mark. Not just physically, but emotionally, spiritually. Ni Jia was hers—and Han Zaijing had no intention of ever letting her forget it.

She would chase her, seduce her, hold her, ruin her—and love her. Completely.

Forever.