Chapter 8 Why Do My Thoughts Always Return to Her?

Stephanie's POV

Just then, Clara glided toward us with deliberate grace, now dressed in a far more daring crimson evening gown. The neckline plunged low, and with every step, the swell of her breasts shifted dangerously, as if the fabric could barely contain her.

"Bennett," she purred, leaning close enough for her perfume to wrap around him, "the terrace has a beautiful view tonight. Why don't we get some fresh air?"

As she spoke, she pressed herself against him, making sure he could feel the softness of her curves. The intent was obvious, and everyone nearby could see it.

Bennett's gaze found mine. For a heartbeat, I saw the frustration and unwillingness in his eyes. But in the end, he let Clara take his arm and lead him away.

I watched them go, my lips curling into a cold smile. Clara's little tricks never failed her… until they did.

Karon must have sensed the shift in my mood. "Stephanie, are you alright?" he asked softly.

"I'm fine." I turned toward him with a warm, genuine smile. "Thank you for your help earlier."

A flicker of tenderness passed through his eyes. "You don't need to thank me. It was the least I could do."

Just then, Isabelle approached, her expression glowing with pride. "Stephanie, your composure tonight makes me proud to call you my daughter."

"Thank you, Mother." I slipped my arm through hers, my smile tinged with playfulness. "After all, I inherited your best qualities."

Bennett's POV

Clara pulled me into a shadowed corner of the terrace, far from the noise and glitter of the ballroom. The muted light painted her skin in warm tones, and the night air carried the heady sweetness of her perfume.

"You don't seem yourself tonight," she murmured, pressing against my chest, her arms winding around my neck.

I said nothing. My mind was still trapped in the image of Stephanie—her fingers brushing the Moon Goddess crest at her chest, the softness in her eyes when she looked at Karon. It gnawed at me in a way I couldn't name.

"Is this about Stephanie?" Clara's voice was thick with jealousy. "She's… different now."

"Shut up." My tone was cold, but the edge lacked its usual bite.

Instead of retreating, Clara leaned in closer. Rising onto her toes, she brushed her lips against my jaw. "Stop thinking about her. Look at me."

Her fingers slid to my tie, loosening it with practiced ease. Normally, by now, I would have been burning for her. But tonight, a strange calm held me still.

"Clara." I tried to push her back, but she only pressed harder against me.

"Hush." She claimed my mouth in a heated kiss, her movements bold and demanding.

I let her kiss me, but in my mind, it was Stephanie's face I saw. Every glance, every subtle shift of her expression tonight was etched into me.

Sensing my distraction, Clara deepened the kiss, one hand slipping lower, into my trousers. She knew exactly how to stir a man, but the emptiness in my chest only grew.

Once, this would have undone me instantly. Now, my body reacted, but my mind was elsewhere—haunted by the curve of Stephanie's collarbone, the quiet, devastating elegance she carried so effortlessly.

In a haze, the woman before me blurred with the one in my thoughts. My hands moved on instinct.

"Yes," I breathed.

Clara let out a pleased sound, certain she had won again. But even as I touched her, it was Stephanie I was imagining—Stephanie in Karon's arms, Stephanie's cool, unreadable gaze meeting mine, Stephanie's fingers brushing her chest with that teasing grace.

It was those visions that finally pushed me over the edge.

After, I straightened my clothes quickly.

"Bennett, tonight you—" Clara began, her tone laced with suspicion.

"I have things to do." I cut her off and strode away from the terrace.

Stephanie's POV

When I saw Bennett again, he was walking back from the direction of the terrace. His expression carried a certain satisfied ease, but his eyes burned into me.

I knew that look.

It was the same look he used to have after sex.

My gaze swept the ballroom. Clara was nowhere to be seen. She was probably still… fixing herself.

Memories surged, sharp and bitter. Once, in my previous life as Sophia, Clara had visited our home. That night, she had vanished suddenly, only to leave without explanation. The next day, she claimed there had been an emergency at home.

Bennett's expression then had been exactly like it was now.

Back then, I had felt the ache at my mark, but I was too lost in Bennett's lies to see the truth. Like a fool, I had even worried about Clara, offering help while she and Bennett were already betraying me.

Now, there was no doubt.

Bennett walked toward me. "Stephanie." His voice was deeper than before, almost rough. "We need to talk."

I met his gaze with ice. He had just been with another woman, and now he dared to come to me? Did he think I was still the naive Sophia, or the Stephanie who used to worship him?

"Mr. Lightwood," I said, my tone as cold as frost, "there is nothing for us to discuss."

I turned to leave, but his hand clamped around my wrist.

"Stephanie!" His grip was iron, unyielding. "You can't keep running from me!"

His sudden intensity was almost feral, Alpha dominance radiating from him. But instead of bending to it, I felt nothing but revulsion. My wolf snarled inside me, aching to tear him apart.

The shift in the air drew curious glances from nearby guests.

And then, a voice cut through the tension, sharp and commanding.

"Let her go."