Three weeks after the Derrick deal closed, an invitation arrived on my desk.
The Annual Charity Gala. Black Tie. Benefiting Children's Hospital Foundation.
The city's elite would all be there—including, I knew without checking the guest list, Alistair and Seraphina.
Julian knocked on my office door that afternoon, holding a garment bag. "You'll need something to wear," he said. "Consider it a company investment."
The dress was deep navy, the fabric heavy and smooth. When I tried it on that evening, it swirled around my legs like the night sea. I looked in the mirror and barely recognized the woman staring back—elegant, composed, dangerous.
Good.
When I walked into the ballroom on Julian's arm, I felt the weight of every eye in the room. Curiosity. Shock. Admiration.
The chandeliers glittered overhead. A string quartet played something soft and forgettable. Servers drifted through the crowd with champagne.
And then I saw her. Seraphina.
Her voice cut through the polite murmur of conversation like breaking glass. "Evelyn? Oh my God, is that really you?"
She swept toward me, her friends flanking her like a pack. Her smile was sharp enough to draw blood.
"I almost didn't recognize you without an apron," she said sweetly. "Though I suppose even maids get to dress up once in a while."
Her friends giggled on cue.
"Seraphina," one of them stage-whispered, loud enough for half the room to hear, "do you think she knows Alistair is here? This is so awkward."
"Maybe she's hoping for a reunion," another one said, eyeing my dress with obvious disdain. "That neckline is certainly... strategic."
I didn't flinch. I just looked at her with cool indifference.
"Nice dress, Seraphina," I said, my voice calm. "Very... you."
The smile on her face flickered. Just for a second.
"What's that supposed to mean?" one of her friends snapped.
I didn't answer. I just turned toward the bar.
"Alistair!" Seraphina's voice rose, shrill and desperate. "Did you see that? She insulted me! She came here just to humiliate me in front of everyone!"
The crowd around us had gone quiet. I could feel the weight of their stares, hear the whispers starting to ripple outward. Someone's phone camera flashed.
I heard his footsteps before I saw him.
Alistair appeared through the crowd, his face tight. His eyes swept over me—the dress, Julian standing beside me, the way I held myself. His jaw clenched.
"Evelyn." His voice was strained. "I need to talk to you. Alone."
"There's nothing to talk about," I said evenly.
Seraphina grabbed his arm, her voice trembling. "Alistair, she's being so cruel. I don't understand why she hates me so much."
Alistair barely glanced at her. He was staring at me like he was seeing me for the first time.
"Vanguard." Julian's voice was quiet, but it carried. He stepped closer, placing himself slightly between Alistair and me. "You're making a scene. And more importantly, you're making Ms. Lin uncomfortable. I suggest you return to your date."
Alistair's eyes snapped to Julian's hand, which had moved to rest protectively on my back.
I saw it then—the look on his face. Shock. Anger. Possessiveness. It was the look of a man seeing something he thought he owned being touched by someone else.
He shoved past Seraphina and stepped toward me. "Evelyn, what is this? What are you doing with him?"
He reached out to grab my arm.
I stepped back smoothly, letting him hit empty air.
"Listen," Alistair said, his voice dropping lower, almost pleading. "About what happened before... I was impulsive. I made mistakes. We need to talk. We can fix this."
The room was silent now. Everyone was watching.
Julian's hand pressed more firmly against my back—not controlling, just steady. A silent reminder that I wasn't alone.
"Mr. Vanguard," I said, my voice clear and cold. "We have nothing to fix. We're done. We've been done."
Seraphina reached for him again, her face crumpling, tears streaming down her carefully made-up cheeks. "Alistair, please..."
He shook her off without even looking at her. Like she was nothing.
She stood there, shattered. The perfect mask she always wore had cracked wide open, and for a moment, she looked exactly like what she was—a discarded toy.
The whispers grew louder. I heard fragments:
"Did you see his face—" "She's with Julian Valerius now—" "God, that's humiliating—"
I looked at Alistair one last time. He was standing there, frozen, while Seraphina sobbed beside him and the crowd watched with barely concealed glee.
I didn't gloat. I didn't smile.
I simply turned away.
Julian offered his arm. "Shall we?"
"Yes," I said, taking it. "I believe the mayor wanted to discuss a vendor contract. Let's not keep him waiting."
As we walked away, I could feel Alistair's eyes burning into my back.
Let him watch.
Let him see exactly what he threw away.