And he wasn’t the only one who’d thought that. Afraid she’d threaten Kyla’s place, none of them had been kind.
But this Tilda – confident, glowing, and completely transformed – was almost unrecognizable. She moved like she owned the place, every step steady and sure. It was like the spotlight followed her.
“Holy hell,” Clive muttered. “Total knockout. Wade, even you can’t look away – that’s saying something.”
When she stepped onto the rooftop bar, Clive’s jaw dropped.
“That’s Tilda,” Wade said, sounding irritated.
“What? No way. She looks nothing like her photos!”
At first, Clive thought Wade was seeing things. But the longer he stared, the more his breath caught. It was her – same face, totally different vibe.
Tilda didn’t notice them. She went straight to Una.
“Sorry I’m late,” she said, smiling warmly.
“You’re not late at all – wait, Tilda… you look different.”
Una, soft and sweet in her white dress, had worried that cutting ties with the Jensons would break Tilda. But now… Tilda looked radiant.
“I am different,” Tilda said simply, her smile never fading.
She’d finally seen the truth about family – and she was done pretending.
“I was worried,” Una admitted. “But you actually seem happier.”
“Cheers, Una. Let’s celebrate my rebirth. No – let’s call it escaping a miserable life.”
Tilda picked up Una’s Bloody Mary, clinked glasses, and took a long sip. The icy spice jolted her awake.
The wind brushed her face. City lights shimmered on the river. Her best friend beside her. She was alive. She was free.
Life was good.
Why waste it chasing something that was never hers?
Her voice was soft – but Wade, from across the bar, heard every word.
Something twisted in his chest – a storm of emotions he couldn’t name.
“Escaping a miserable life? Damn,” Clive muttered. “Sounds like your family really messed her up.”
He looked away, awkward. It wasn’t his place to say it.
But still… most girls would’ve killed to be a Jenson. For Tilda to walk away willingly? That said everything.
Wade didn’t respond. He just lifted the bottle and downed the rest.
Escaping a miserable life.
Was that what leaving home meant for her?
Was she really okay – or just pretending not to care?
“Tilda, you don’t have to be strong all the time,” Una said gently. “I’m your best friend. If it ever gets too heavy, you can lean on me. My shoulder’s right here.”
Una’s chest ached. She knew how much Tilda had craved a family – how badly she’d wanted that warmth.
When the Jensons came with the DNA results, she’d never seen Tilda so happy. She’d cried for days. Drunk one night, she’d clung to Una, whispering, “I finally have a family. A mom. A dad. Brothers. I’m not an orphan anymore.”
“Then let me borrow your shoulder,” Tilda whispered, wrapping her arms around her.
Eyes closed, she spoke from her heart. “I’m so lucky to have you, Una.”
Una’s throat tightened. Tears burned her eyes.
“Hey, don’t cry. I’ll always be here,” she murmured, hugging her back.
“Mhm.”
Tilda blinked away the sting – not because of the Jensons, but because she’d finally realized how foolish she’d been.
In her last life, she’d given everything to people who never saw her worth.
This time, she was done with that.
The music shifted, bass thumping through the floor.
“Una, I wanna dance.”
This time around, Tilda just wanted to live – freely, loudly, without caring what anyone thought.
“I’ll be right here, cheering you on,” Una said, smiling.
Tilda grinned, gave her a playful pat on the head, and stood. She unbuttoned her blouse, revealing a sleek black vest that hugged her toned abs.
Then she walked straight into the center of the dance floor.
The beat dropped – and Tilda came alive.
A total knockout. Every man’s eyes snapped to her the moment she started moving.
Whistles and cheers filled the air, but she didn’t care. Eyes closed, she lost herself to the music – wild, unrestrained, electric. Every turn, every sway, pulsed with power and freedom.
Wade stood frozen, staring like he’d never seen her before. He hadn’t known Tilda could dance – let alone command a room like this.
The energy she brought flooded the bar, electric and unstoppable.
“Encore! Encore!” the crowd roared.
Even Clive was on his feet, clapping like a fanboy.
Meanwhile, up on the fourth floor of Nightingale Bar, in a private booth, a pair of sharp, hawk-like eyes tracked her every move – silent, focused, locked on the girl setting the dance floor on fire.
“Jude, you interested?”
Maurice Rowse had noticed her too – the girl on the dance floor, moving like she owned the place.
Tilda was magnetic, lit up like a queen under the flashing lights.
But what really caught Maurice’s attention wasn’t Tilda. It was Jude.
Jude was watching her.
Not a passing glance. Not idle curiosity. He was watching with a kind of focus that was rare for him – cool, distant, and reserved as he usually was.
Jude Bell, the elusive and powerful CEO of DY Group, never gave women a second look. Yet now, his gaze hadn’t left Tilda for a single second.
Half his face was lost in shadow, the other brushed with dim light that caught the sharp set of his lips – firm and unyielding. His nose was straight and proud, his features too striking to be dulled by the darkness. Even hidden in the half-light, his eyes seemed to cut through the night like arrows tipped in fire.
Jude didn’t answer Maurice’s question, but his eyes still flocked to Tilda. His silence spoke volumes.
There was something about Tilda that pulled at him – something familiar.
Jude saw something in Tilda that felt familiar – like he’d finally found someone cut from the same cloth.
His gaze was razor-sharp, and it was nothing like anyone else’s. It went deeper. It searched. It stripped away layers, looking for the person beneath.
And Tilda felt it.
Her attention shifted, her eyes following that invisible thread to the fourth-floor glass wall.
The glass was treated so no one below could see in – but she knew. Someone was watching.
When the music ended, she walked back to Una, breathless and glowing from the dance.
“Tilda, that was wonderful!” Una clapped, eyes bright with excitement.
Tilda chuckled and reached over to ruffle Una’s hair. She was about to speak when – “Hey, gorgeous, feel like joining us for a drink?”
A man swaggered up, dripping in flash and ego. Gold chains. His blonde hair was slicked back as if he had just stepped out of a fashion spread. Early twenties. Cocky grin. Still, he wasn’t bad-looking.
A thick gold tag hung from his neck. It read: Bell.
Tilda didn’t even glance his way. “Not interested.”
Instead of being offended, the man laughed. “Feisty. I like that. Listen, babe, getting noticed by me? That’s your lucky day. Name’s Preston Bell.”
He reached out to touch her.
“Don’t touch Tilda!”
Una darted between them, arms spread wide like a tiny lioness protecting her cub.
Her big eyes glared up at him, fierce and adorable.
Preston’s gaze slid to Una, and his eyes lit up. His interest shifted instantly.
Didn’t expect the friend to be this pretty.
She had that innocent look. Probably never been kissed. A perfect contrast to Tilda’s bold, fiery energy.
Jackpot. Tonight really was his lucky night.
“Hey, Wade,” Clive muttered, nudging his friend. “Your sister’s got some creep on her.”
He squinted. “Hmm, looks familiar. Wait – is that Preston? From the Bells?”
“I saw him,” Wade said through clenched teeth, though he didn’t notice much else.
Preston Bell was the notorious playboy of the family, a relative not from the main branch – rich, reckless, and completely without shame. The kind of guy who showed up at parties with a different girl every night, surrounded by friends who fueled his every whim.
He was the spoiled rich kid everyone loved to hate. He once stole another man’s girlfriend right in front of a crowd, but no one dared to call him out.
Because behind Preston stood the Bells – Slosa’s untouchable elite.
And above them all was the one man nobody in the city would dare cross – the elusive CEO of DY Group.
Even the powerful Jensons thought twice before challenging the Bells.
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