Billionaire Alpha's 99 Deadly Games

Chapter 13

Recalling the disastrous fate of that previous business partner, Michael silently calculated how many hours he'd need to be prepared to be expelled from the pack.

He inhaled deeply, steeling himself for the tempest of Lucas's rage.

To his absolute shock, Lucas not only picked up the tickets but examined them with unexpected interest, his fingers tracing the embossed lettering with something approaching tenderness.

The tickets were elegantly minimal-clean black typography on heavy cream cardstock, containing only essential information without a single decorative flourish.

The stark simplicity transported Lucas to a moment he'd spent years trying to forget.

Aria, curled up on their bed three years ago, sketching ticket designs on her tablet, her hair piled messily atop her head. She'd been so alive then-passionate, determined, completely herself.

"Look at this," she'd said, holding up a clean, minimalist design. "Don't you think this actually communicates more than all that cluttered nonsense they keep asking for?"

He remembered how she would return from her internship at Silver Crescent Ballet, dramatically flopping onto their couch with entertaining impressions of the marketing director.

"It needs more pizzazz," she'd mimic in an exaggerated voice, gesturing wildly. "Make the font bigger! Add sparkles! People won't know it's art unless we hit them over the head with it!"

Lucas had laughed then-casually, carelessly, not appreciating how perfect those ordinary moments were. How perfect she had been.

If he hadn't destroyed everything with his revenge plot, would they be sharing those moments still? Would she be designing minimalist tickets for performances he attended proudly as her mate?

The thought sliced through him with surgical precision.

Something about these tickets felt like a sign-an impossible, irrational signal that he should attend. A whisper in his mind suggested that perhaps, somehow, he might find a trace of Aria there, some

what he'd

carefully slid the tickets into his jacket

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Billionaire AI

beta: "We're

and society figures made obligatory pilgrimages to Lucas's front-row seat, attempting to secure a

minimal effort-a slight nod, a disinterested

the lights dimmed, Lucas tensed reflexively. Dance performances had become emotional landmines since Aria's

dancer in a blush-pink costume, frozen in elegant repose. When the music began, she unfurled like a flower opening to moonlight, her movements transcending

caught the stage lights as she turned, creating the impression of liquid shadow following her movements. Despite the pearl-white half-mask concealing her features, her artistic expression radiated through every gesture. Lucas, who had been enduring rather than watching, found himself inexplicably drawn to her performance. There was something in her movement

wolf suddenly showed

fingertips during an arabesque, the characteristic tilt of her head during pirouettes, the musicality of her phrasing-all

memory surfaced with painful clarity: Aria dancing in their den, barefoot on hardwood floors, demonstrating a phrase she'd been working on. "Watch this transition," she'd said, executing the exact same distinctive port de bras he was

his throat as past and present began

with such similar qualities that he could almost believe the impossible-that somehow, through some miracle, he

completed a particularly challenging sequence, approaching the edge of the stage nearest his seat, Lucas found himself leaning forward

was a bit restless.

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Billionair

Chapter 13

escaping before

almost imperceptible to anyone else, the dancer's rhythm faltered slightly-a millisecond hesitation

continued her variation without acknowledging

in perfection sent electricity through Lucas's veins.

coincidence. It couldn't.