CHAPTER 3 Who Is This Woman?

Ezra's POV

The hall was filled with the kind of people who make things happen- business tycoons, actors, socialites- each one playing their part in the grand theater of high society. The air was thick with a sense of entitlement, and it wasn't lost on me. This was my world, and I moved through it like I owned every inch of it.

"You're as brilliant as they say," an older man in a navy blue suit said, offering a handshake with his wife at his side.

"Thank you," I replied, my voice smooth, my smile polite but distant. "You're too kind."

"It's an honor to meet you, Ezra Reed, the youngest and most successful CEO in the city," he continued.

I didn't need to be reminded of who I was. I am Ezra Reed, CEO of Reed Corporation. But that's not something I flaunt. I don't need to. People know. They all know.

I'm not a product of luck or inheritance. This wasn't handed to me like it's handed to most people. I didn't have the luxury of enjoying a carefree youth. I was thrown into the deep end the moment I could swim. No one gave me this. I took it, and I keep it because I'm the only one who can.

"The pleasure is mine, Sir," I said, extending my hand for a businesslike handshake.

"You've accomplished so much more than I ever could." the man said with a kind of awe that was almost nauseating.

I nodded, acknowledging the compliment without fully absorbing it. I wasn't here to make friends, and I didn't need to pretend otherwise.

As I moved through the crowd, I couldn't help but feel the weight of every pair of eyes on me. The cameras. The whispers. The people all trying to get a piece of me, some way, somehow. They think they know me.

I turned my attention to a group of women all looking at me like I was some kind of prize. They flashed flirtatious smiles, and I gave them a quiet, calculated nod in return. They weren't worth my time, but they weren't a threat either.

Then Chloe's arm linked with mine, pulling my attention away from the women. She stood close to me, glaring at the group with an intensity that was almost comical.

I glanced at her, an eyebrow raised, as she practically oozed possessiveness. I slid my arm out of hers, my expression unreadable, but my message clear- I don't need you to protect me from them.

Chloe is my younger sister, though not by blood. She's always been possessive of me in ways that have become harder to ignore as the years went on. Lately, it's been more intense- she seeks my attention in ways that make me uncomfortable, often dressing in revealing nightwear I'd rather not have to see.

Tonight was no different.

I was standing with a group of business associates when I felt her approach, a little too close, a little too eager. As I shifted slightly to create some space between us, she spun around in frustration, almost losing her balance.

"Ezra," she huffed, her tone far too familiar. She reached out to tug on my shirt, and in the process, her glass of red wine spilled onto my shirt.

"Oh, no, I'm so sorry, Ezra!" she exclaimed, her hands immediately reaching for the stain as if it could be wiped away just by her touch.

I stared down at the blotch of wine spreading across my shirt, my face betraying nothing. "It's no worries," I replied.

I turned back to the group I was standing with, politely excusing myself.

"I'm sorry, please excuse me," I said, keeping my tone neutral.

They all nodded, muttering their understanding, but I could feel Chloe's gaze on me- her frustration, her disappointment. It was as though she believed I should have reacted differently, more forgiving, more affectionate.

As I made my way to step away, I could feel her eyes on my back. I turned to face her once again. She stood there with an apologetic frown, lips pouting, clearly upset that I wasn't giving her the reaction she craved.

I gave her a small, insincere smile, then sidestepped her, walking around her with deliberate, measured steps. "I'll take care of it," I said, my voice firm, not a hint of softness in my words.

She didn't follow me, but I could sense the weight of her gaze on me as I exited the hall.

I walked into my hotel suite and closed the door behind me, leaning against it with a sigh. The red wine stain on my shirt was a harsh reminder of the night, and I looked down at it with disgust before moving further into the room.

I tossed the ruined shirt aside as I made my way to the bedroom, heading straight for the bathroom.

The hot water from the shower enveloped me as I stood there for about 15 minutes, trying to wash away the tension. When I stepped out, feeling a little more at ease, I grabbed a towel and wrapped it around my waist.

I pulled out my phone and texted my assistant. "Send me a clean, sharp outfit for tonight," I instructed, knowing he would be quick to deliver.

I sat at the edge of the bed with my elbows leaning on my thighs and my finger pinching my nose bridge as I clenched my eyes shut. I was thinking of a perfect reason not to go back out there.

Just then, a knock came from the door of my suite. I stood up and went to receive the person at the door.

I opened the door and turned on my heel without looking at whoever was there, for I was sure it was my assistant.

It wasn't until I had taken my third step that I stopped in my tracks.

My assistant would have entered immediately and shut the door behind him before reporting what was going on at the banquet during my absence.

I spun around almost missing my step when it dawned on me that the person I had let in wasn't my assistant.

I was shocked when my eyes met a young, disheveled woman holding a bottle of wine in her hand and mumbling incoherent words.

She had a cheeky smile on her face as she stumbled unsteadily in the doorway.

I tilted my head to the side, unable to understand what was going on there.

Who is this woman? And what is she doing in my suite?

Her smile widened as she looked at me in an unholy manner. "My, my, my, aren't you a hot cake?"