His Perfect Trap, My Perfect Revenge

Chapter 23

"You look absolutely breathtaking tonight, Chelsea."

Magnus approached her with a champagne flute in hand, his signature charming smile in place. Dressed in a sharp suit, he exuded effortless confidence—no trace of the desperation he'd shown earlier. To anyone else, he was the picture of a perfect gentleman. But for Chelsea, the sight only dredged up memories of her birthday, when he'd showered her with the same sweet words before shattering her trust with lies.

She ignored the offered glass, tightening her grip on Alaric's arm as she brushed past Magnus like he was a stranger.

"Magnus? What's he doing here?" Alaric frowned, noticing the man's gaze following them.

"No idea," Chelsea replied coolly.

Truthfully, the party was an industry event—his presence wasn't surprising. But that didn't mean she wanted to deal with him.

"Chelsea, can we talk?" Magnus followed, undeterred.

"There's nothing left to say."

He caught her wrist. "Please… isn't there any chance?"

"I told you—we're done. I never want to see you again!" She wrenched her hand free, voice sharp enough to draw attention.

"Chelsea—"

He reached for her again, but Alaric stepped between them, blocking his path.

"Mr. Colon, she made herself clear. Back off." His tone was low, firm, his expression icy.

"This is between me and her. Stay out of it," Magnus snapped.

"Oh, but it is my business," Alaric countered smoothly. "I'm pursuing her. That means everything about her concerns me now."

"You—"

Magnus's fists clenched. Then, without warning, he swung.

A collective gasp rippled through the room, followed by the crash of a table being knocked over. By the time Chelsea turned, the two men were already grappling. As Magnus reared back for another punch, she threw herself between them.

"Magnus, stop!"

Caught off guard, he couldn't pull back in time—his fist struck the floor beside her instead.

"That's enough!" She shoved him back with all her strength before helping Alaric up. "Are you okay?"

Wiping blood from his lip, he gave a tight nod.

Relief flickered through her before she whirled on Magnus, fury blazing in her eyes.

"If anything had happened to him tonight, I swear you wouldn't have walked away unscathed."

Without another glance, she looped an arm around Alaric and led him out, leaving Magnus standing there, chest heaving, heart pounding. Watching them disappear together, a sharp ache twisted inside him.

So this is how she felt that night—when I walked away from her.

At the hospital, the doctor confirmed Alaric's injuries were minor—just bruises and shallow cuts. Only then did Chelsea exhale in relief.

Outside the ER, Alaric gently took her hand.

"Chelsea…"

"Hmm?"

"Promise me something."

"What is it?"

"Don't see Magnus again. Ever."

A quiet tremor laced his voice—a vulnerability she rarely heard. He wasn't sure if her heart had truly moved on.

Chelsea studied him for a moment before a soft laugh escaped her, her hand covering her smile.

"Alright."

Just one word—but it was all he needed. With that, the tension in his chest finally eased.