Chapter 45
“Seb, I think you should go,” Elara said, her eyes glinting with a hidden agenda. “Given our situation, the company, the rumors, you might meet someone who could help you turn things around. We need allies right now p>
Before Seb could refuse again, a small pitter-patter of feet echoed on the hardwood. Seren ran into the dining room, her face lighting up.
“Dad, I want to go!” she cried, throwing her small arms around his waist. “I want to see the big hall and the pretty lights p>
Seb sighed, his hand instinctively reaching out to ruffle her hair. Even after the video at the office, seeing her like this, so small and seemingly innocent, he couldn’t bring himself to be cold to her.
“Seren?” Seb murmured, his voice softening.
“Dad, please! Please, please!” Seren cried, her eyes welling up with tears that might have been real or might have been coached.
Seb looked from his daughter’s tearful face to Elara’s expectant gaze. He felt trapped. “Fine,” he finally agreed, his shoulders slumping. “We will go then p>
“Yay! I’m going to a party with Dad and Mommy!” Seren cheered, jumping up and down and spinning in a circle.
Elara smiled, a slow, triumphant curve of her lips. “I’ll pick out your suit, Seb. We need to look like a united front. The reporters need to see us happy p>
Seb didn’t answer. He just looked out the window, wondering if Amara would be there. The alumni party was for their year, after all. If she showed up with Jullian, he didn’t know if he would be able to keep his composure.
If she’s there, he thought, I’ll find a way to talk to her. Away from the cameras. Away from Elara.
Two days later, the alumni party arrived.
The grand ballroom of the InterContinental shimmered beneath hanging chandeliers, gold and velvet draped elegantly along the walls.
Crystal glasses clinked softly against polished marble tables, and the air buzzed with the low hum of wealth, ambition, and curiosity.
It was a sea of familiar faces, the elite, the successful, and, of course, the ever-watchful gossips who thrived on whispers more than wine.
Then the doors opened. A hush swept through the room like a sudden change in wind. Amara stepped inside, her arm linked with Julian’s.
She wore midnight silk that clung to her like a second skin, the fabric catching the light with every measured step she took. It shimmered, not loudly, but confidently, like it knew it belonged there. Her head was held high, her expression calm, but her pulse betrayed her composure. She could feel the eyes on them. On her.
“Our campus heartthrob is finally taken,” one former student murmured, not nearly quiet enough.
“Yeah,” another added with a smirk. “He’s had a crush on Amara for so long. Now he finally got the girl. Amara’s steps faltered ever so slightly.
Julian leaned closer, his breath warm against her ear. “That’s right. Even my roommates helped me pursue you p>
She turned to him sharply, shock written plainly across her face. “Weren’t you the most popular guy on campus? How does everyone know you liked me? I had no idea p>
His lips curved, but there was something sincere behind the teasing. “Popular? Please. I was just trying to catch your eye p>
Her heart skipped. Before she could respond, another voice cut through the atmosphere.
“Your buddy Seb is such a jerk. He cheated, and it served him right to lose everything.” A few nods followed.
“Damn, Seb really is a jerk.” The words lingered in the air, heavy and sharp.
Amara stiffened, memories threatening to surface, but Julian’s hand tightened subtly around hers, not possessive, not controlling. Protective. Reassuring.
The room was watching. But this time, she was not the girl being whispered about in pity.
She was the woman who walked in with her head high. And beside her stood a man who had wanted her long before anyone realized she was worth wanting.
The whispering hadn’t even settled when the doors opened again.
Three figures stepped in.
Seb.
Elara.
Seren.
They had clearly heard enough.
“Seb and I are genuinely in love,” Elara announced sharply, her voice slicing through the murmurs like glass. She lifted her chin, fingers laced possessively through Seb’s arm. It wasn’t affection, it was a declaration. A challenge.
The room quieted again, but this time the silence felt different. Tense. Expectant.
“What right do you have to call him a jerk?” Elara continued, her eyes sweeping over the crowd before settling, pointedly, on Amara. “Material wealth is fleeting. Seren is our greatest treasure. She, unlike some people, will never have her own children, no matter how wealthy she becomes. She’ll never have her own children p>
The cruelty was deliberate, sharp, and personal.
A few gasps rippled through the room. Amara didn’t move, nor did she blink.
She simply adjusted the clasp of her midnight silk gown as though someone had commented on the weather. If Elara expected tears or rage, she would be disappointed. Amara’s composure was unshakable, at least on the surface.
“Seb, can you control that fake bitch next to you?” one of Seb’s old friends scoffed loudly, gesturing toward Elara. “She knows she’s a mistress but still acts so high and mighty p>
“Yeah, she’s shameless,” another chimed in. Color drained from Elara’s face, but she refused to retreat.
“Each Creed generation has had one heir,” she shot back defensively. “I can give Seb children. Can Amara do the same?” Her hand tightened around Seren’s shoulder. “My child is smart and capable. Seren just won first place in the piano competition again p>
Seren stepped forward, clutching her small purse, eyes shining with desperate hope. “Dad, I used the prize money to buy you a suit. I’ll give you the best of everything p>
Seb’s expression softened instantly. He crouched slightly to her level. “You’re such a good girl, Seren. But you don’t have to p>
The exchange was tender, almost calculated in its timing.
“Seb isn’t left with nothing,” King, one of Seb’s long-time friends, added loudly. “He still has kids. He’s better than those with none p>
The words hit their mark. A deliberate strike. For a fraction of a second, something flickered in Amara’s eyes.
Pain. But it vanished just as quickly.
Julian’s thumb brushed gently over the back of her hand, grounding her. Steadying her. He didn’t speak, he didn’t need to. His presence was louder than any insult.
Amara finally lifted her gaze. Calm. Unbothered. Untouchable.
She looked at Elara the way one might glance at distant noise, acknowledged but insignificant.
And somehow, that silence… hurt more than any response ever could.