It began with a scream.
Not of joy, not of celebration, but pure, raw terror.
The music cut off mid-note as masked men stormed into the Grand Ballroom of the Jay Estate. Gunshots cracked like whips through the hall, glass shattered, people dropped to the floor, screaming and ducking for cover. Panic spread faster than fire. One of the chandeliers fell with a crash, sending crystal shards spinning across the marble floor.
Liora stood frozen on the stage, bouquet in hand, her soft pink dress sparkling under the grand lights. Her wide brown eyes found Callum's across the room, he was smiling, raising his champagne in a toast. He didn't even hear the shot. Not at first.
But she felt it.
The bullet tore through her side, painting her dress red. She gasped, a sound so soft, so human, and dropped the bouquet. Her legs buckled. Callum saw her stumble and rushed forward, glass crunching beneath his polished shoes.
"Liora!"
She collapsed before he reached her. Her body hit the floor like a fallen rose.
"No. No no no. Stay with me," Callum whispered, cradling her to his chest. His hands trembled as he tried to stop the bleeding. The warmth of her blood soaked into his tuxedo.
Her lips moved. Barely.
"Callum..."
Her eyes flapped, glazed with pain. She was trying to smile. Still trying to smile.
"Why? Why you? Why today?" he choked, brushing hair from her face. "Who did this? Who would do this?"
She didn't answer. Her fingers curled weakly around his wrist, then slipped away.
She took her final breath, then stillness.
"No! Liora! Don't you do this. Don't you leave me!"
He screamed. Loud. The kind of scream that breaks from the soul, not the throat. The sound echoed off marble walls and silenced the room.
The masked men vanished just as suddenly as they had appeared. No ransom note. No message. Just bullets and blood.
Police sirens wailed in the distance, but they were too late.
Chaos reigned. Guests cried, some injured, some stunned. A woman in pearls fainted. An elderly man clutched his chest. Waiters dropped trays and ran. The scent of gunpowder lingered in the air, bitter and thick, mixing with the expensive perfume and the faint aroma of fresh flowers.
Photographers and reporters, already outside, now caught images of guests running, screaming, being pulled into ambulances.
Inside, Callum Jay stayed on the floor, holding her. His white shirt was now red.
Just ten minutes before...
He had been smiling.
He stood tall, proud, in his custom midnight-blue tuxedo, flashing that famous Jay grin. He had invited all his billionaire friends, dignitaries, artists, and celebrities. The ballroom glowed with soft golden lights, and the walls were draped in silks. Music played from a live orchestra. The scent of vanilla and roses hung in the air.
Everyone toasted. Everyone laughed.
He had found love. At last.
She walked in like a dream, Liora Shun, a breathtaking vision in blush silk. Her hair cascaded down her back like a waterfall, lips soft as petals, and her eyes... they made Callum's chest ache.
They had met just two weeks ago.
He didn't care.
He never believed in slow love. This was something else. This was instant, electric, like gravity had changed direction.
"Mr. Callum," one of the reporters had teased earlier, "Why the rush?"
He had laughed. "Why wait when you've found what you didn't even know you were searching for?"
Now, that same man was outside the estate, holding his camera, unable to photograph the billionaire curled on the ballroom floor with a lifeless woman in his arms.
Inside, Callum couldn't move. Couldn't blink. Couldn't breathe.
He looked down at her pale face. There was still a trace of that soft smile. The one she always gave him when he said her name.
"Liora..."
He rocked back and forth, holding her tighter. People around him cried. Security scrambled, yelling into radios.
"Sir, you need to let go now. The medics…"
"No."
"Mr. Callum, we…"
"Get away from me."
The man backed off. Nobody knew what to say.
Callum's mind raced.
Why didn't they shoot me? Why her? Who did I offend? Why today?
His vision blurred, hot tears falling down his cheeks. He had known her for just two weeks. But it had been the best two weeks of his life.
He remembered how they met.
It was raining. He was furious at his driver for taking a long route. The car stopped at a flower shop for shelter. She stood inside, holding a vase of irises, laughing at something the old shopkeeper said.
She had turned. Their eyes met. And something in his chest cracked open.
He bought all the irises just to talk to her. And she laughed. Said he was ridiculous. But she gave him her number.
Their first date was three hours later.
He didn't know her past. He didn't care. He just wanted her future. With him.
Now...
Now her blood stained the white marble stage.
"Where's the ambulance?" he shouted suddenly. "WHERE ARE THEY?"
"They're coming, sir. They're—"
"It's been twenty minutes!"
"It's twelve, sir..."
Time had collapsed. Everything moved too fast and too slow at the same time.
He finally let go when the medics arrived. His hands were sticky, trembling.
"Pulse?"
"Faint…no, wait... flatline."
"Prepare shock pads."
Callum couldn't watch.
He stood, staggered back. The world spun. His legs nearly gave out.
Police surrounded him. Questions. So many questions.
"Mr. Jay, did you recognize the attackers?"
"No."
"Any known threats recently?"
"No."
"Are you aware of anyone who might want to harm you or Ms. Shun?"
"I don't know!"
They took her body away. He almost ran after it.
"I need to go with her."
"Sir, please, we need to ask you…"
"Let me go with her."
One officer nodded. "Let him."
Callum sat beside her on the stretcher. He held her hand the whole ride.
Her fingers were cold.
He couldn't believe it. Not this. Not today.
Not her. He had everything, money, power, empires.
But none of it could bring her back.
The news that night exploded.
"Breaking: Billionaire's Bride-to-Be Shot Dead at Engagement Ceremony."
"Masked Gunmen Strike Jay Estate in Brutal Ambush." "Who Killed Liora Shun?"
Cameras, headlines, endless speculation.
But Callum didn't care. He was staring at a bloodied ring box he had dropped in the chaos.
He had been planning to propose on stage. She never even got to say yes.
Outside the hospital, flashbulbs went off. A reporter asked, "Mr. Callum Jay, do you believe this was a targeted attack?"
He turned to them slowly. His eyes were bloodshot, face pale.
"I don't know who I offended," he whispered. "But they didn't just shoot her... they shot the only thing in this world that made sense to me."
He turned away, walked into the shadows.
Back in the Grand Ballroom, where rose petals still lay scattered and music sheets wavered under overturned chairs, a figure stepped out from the staff corridor.
The figure was unseen, calm, and was watching.
She bent, picked up the blood-stained iris Callum had tucked into Liora's bouquet, and whispered something in a language older than the marble beneath her feet.
The flower withered instantly in her palm.
She smiled. "This is only the beginning."