The Heiress He Underestimated novel Chapter 79

Chapter 79 Removing The Mask

The ballroom was even more packed than last night. Elera stood at the entrance with Drakontur saking it all in. There had to be at least four hundred people crammed into this space, all dressed to kill, all buzzing with anticipation. The energy was different from the patron’s dinner. Last night had been exclusive and controlled. Tonight was a circus.

“Stay close to me,” Drakonius murmured, his hand firm on her lower back as they made their way to their table. “And remember, we leave the second you want to. Just say the word.”

Their table was near the front but off to the side, positioned so they could see everything but weren’t in the direct spotlight. Frost had chosen well. Two of his people were already seated at the table, posing as guests but constantly scanning the room.

As they settled into their seats, Elera’s heart was hammering so hard she thought everyone could probably hear it. This was insane. What was she doing? She was about to reveal herself as Raven Shadowmere in front of hundreds of people, including her father and possibly Xan. She was about to blow up her entire secret identity for what? Pride? Spite? The need to stop hiding?

Maybe all of it.

She glanced at Drakonius. He was watching the crowd with that same assessing look he always had in public, taking in every detail, cataloging threats. He had no idea what was coming. No idea that in less than an hour, he was going to find out his wife was the author he’d been obsessed with for years.

Would he be happy? Angry? Would he feel betrayed that she’d kept it from him?

Gosh, she hoped he’d be happy.

The lights dimmed and a hush fell over the crowd. Alistair Thorn, the chairman from last night, took the stage. He gave a long, flowery speech about the importance of literature and storytelling and visionary voices. Elera barely heard any of it. Her blood was rushing too loud in her ears.

Then Thorn started talking about the award categories. There were several. Best Historical Fiction. Best Poetry Collection. Best Debut Novel. Each winner walked up to scattered applause, gave a short speech, posed for photos. The ceremony dragged on.

Elera used the time to scan the crowd. She found her father three tables over, already drunk by the looks of him, talking loudly to the people around him who looked like they wanted to be anywhere else. Pathetic.

“Fine,” she lied. “Just ready for this to be over.”

“Soon,” he promised.

Finally, after what felt like seventeen years, Thorn got to the main event. The Visionary Pen award. The big one. The one everyone was here for.

“And now,” Thorn said, his voice swelling with importance, “we come to the highlight of our evening. The Visionary Pen award recognizes an author who has not only achieved commercial success but has fundamentally changed the way we think about their genre. Someone who has pushed boundaries. challenged conventions, and created something truly new.”

The crowd leaned forward. Cameras flashed. Everyone knew who this was for. The question was whether she’d actually show up.

“This year’s recipient,” Thorn continued, “has done all of that and more. In just seven years, she has published six novels, all international bestsellers. Her books have been translated into forty–three languages. Her books have been optioned for film, adapted for stage, studied in universities. And yet, despite all this success, she has remained one of literature’s greatest mysteries. A phantom. A ghost. A raven in the shadows.”