We’d barely claid a corner table and begun stuffing our faces with tiny, overpriced food when a tall man in a crisp black suit approached, his expression politely unreadable. He stopped in front of us and turned his gaze to Aria.
"Mrs. Smith," he said, voice low but firm. "Your mother specifically asked to make sure you were... mingling."
Aria let out a groan, her half-bitten macaron still in hand. "Seriously?"
"She also requested that I check in if you appeared to be—well..." His eyes briefly flicked from our secluded table to her half-full plate. "...hiding."
"Oh, I can’t believe she made you tail ," Aria muttered, wiping her fingers with a napkin. "Let guess—she already gave you a list of people I’m supposed to talk to tonight?"
He nodded once, pulling a folded sheet of paper from his inside pocket like so kind of upper-crust spy.
She rolled her eyes so hard it’s a miracle they didn’t get stuck. "Fine. Lead the way, Agent Mother’s Orders."
Then she turned to , her face softening. "I’ll be quick, I swear. Don’t let anyone eat our cake while I’m gone."
I raised my fork like a sword. "They can try."
And just like that, she disappeared into the crowd with her polished babysitter in front, leaving alone with my plate of mini desserts, and the growing realization that I was now solo in a room full of strangers in designers.
But hey—at least the food is good.
I poked at my dessert plate, debating whether to try the caral tart or the tiramisu next, when the urge to pee hit out of nowhere.
Of course. Right when I was starting to relax.
I stood, carefully smoothing the hem of my dress and avoiding getting into any trouble with Aria, considering she had not even touched her piece of cake yet. Then I made my way through the crowd toward what I hoped was a restroom.
Turning a corner near the bar, I accidentally brushed past soone and—oops—my elbow accidentally hit a glass of water that was placed too close to the edge of a tray.
It tipped.
Splash.
A splash of cold water hit the shoulder of a girl in a tight, blush-pink satin dress. She turned around slowly, like a villain in a teen drama, lips pursed and eyes sharp.
"I’m so sorry," I said quickly, hands up. "I didn’t an to—it was a total accident. Soone bumped and—"
She stared at the water on her shoulder like it was acid. Then, without a word, she grabbed a tall glass of champagne from a server passing by.
And threw it at .
The cold hit full in the chest, soaking through the front of my dress and trickling down in the worst places.
I stood there, stunned.
"Are you insane?" I gasped.
"Oh, relax," she said, her tone mocking and disrespectful. "You clearly needed a little sparkle. It’s an upgrade."
People around us were already watching, so openly gawking.
"It was a mistake," I said, breath shaking now, not just from the cold. "You didn’t have to go nuclear."
"Maybe don’t co to parties if you don’t know how to walk in heels," she said with a glare. "You people always think a dress is enough to belong."
I stiffened. That last part stung in a way I couldn’t explain.
The champagne soaked through the front of my dress, cold and sticky, as gasps rippled through the crowd nearby. I stared at the girl in stunned disbelief.
"apologize," she said.
"For what? I already said sorry," I responded.
She took a step forward and shoved —hard. My heels slipped slightly against the polished floor, but I caught myself before stumbling completely.
"Are you deaf and clumsy?" she sneered, her eyes flashing. "I said, apologize. Properly."
I blinked. "I already said I was sorry—"
"On your knees," she snapped, voice louder now. "Or are you too proud to grovel like the ss you are?"
Two girls stood on either side of her, acting like loyal dogs, one with her arms crossed, the other chewing gum and looking up and down.
"She really thinks she can co here looking like a Cinderella knockoff and not show respect," the gum-chewer muttered.
"Soone should remind her this isn’t prom night at a community center," the other added, lips curled in a sneer.
People were watching. Not just guests—staff, too. But no one stepped in.
The girl stepped even closer, her perfu overwhelming now, her painted mouth twisted into a cruel smirk. "Kneel. Now. Or I’ll make sure your little charity invite gets revoked. Let’s see how fast you’re escorted out."
My fists clenched at my sides. Heat flushed my face—humiliation, rage, and the desperate fight not to cry in front of this disrespectful, twisted queen bee.
But I stayed standing.
"I bet that dress is a knockoff," the gum-chewer sneered, circling like a vulture. "Probably got it from a discount bin, eww."
The queen bee tilted her head with mock sympathy. "You know what? Let’s see what else you’re faking."
Before I could react, she snatched my handbag from my shoulder and dropped it onto the floor with a loud thud. Her stiletto ca down on it like a hamr, grinding it into the marble with slow, deliberate cruelty.
"No—don’t—" I reached for it, but another shove caught off guard.
Hard.
Pain exploded through my hip as I crashed onto the floor, landing with a jolt that stole my breath. My palms stung. My dress crumpled under . I heard laughter—sharp, gleeful. I felt the heat of a dozen eyes burning into . I really wish I could teach them a lesson.
And then—
Footsteps. Slowing.
A hush fell over our little circle.
"Adrien!" the queen bee suddenly chirped, flipping her hair and schooling her face into sothing soft and innocent. "She spilled water on and then tried to make apologize. Can you believe that?"
Adrien.
That’s his na?
I looked up, dazed, wincing—and saw him.
The guy from the elevator.
Fancy suit. Cold eyes. And not even sparing her a glance.
He walked right past her.
Straight to .
He crouched down, his hand reaching for mine. "You alright?" he asked, voice low, steady. Not fake-sweet. Not pitying. Just... real.
I blinked at him, startled. "I—yeah. I think so."
He helped to my feet, strong hands guiding gently. Behind him, the girl’s face twisted, the cute act slipping for a second into a silent, poisonous glare.
Adrien didn’t even flinch.
He turned to the girl, eyes sharp. "Apologize."
She blinked, thrown off. "Adrien, it’s ," she said with a nervous laugh. "You know . She spilled water all over and—"
But he wasn’t even looking at her anymore.
He cut his eyes past her like she wasn’t even there. "Tell your sister to apologize to my girlfriend," he said coldly, addressing the tall guy in a suit standing behind her, "or you’ll all regret it."
The air went still.
I froze
My stomach flipped. Girlfriend? What?
The girls gasped in unison. The queen bee’s fake smile slipped entirely. The guy—clearly her brother—visibly stiffened. His eyes darted between Adrien and his sister, who looked like she’d just been slapped.
Adrien still hadn’t looked away from . His grip on my arm was steady, warm. "You okay?"
I stared up at him, mouth open. "G-girlfriend?"
His mouth twitched in sothing that might’ve been a smirk. "We’ll talk later, little bunny."
Before I could react
He bent down, one arm under my knees, the other at my back, and scooped up in one swift, effortless motion.
Princess-style.
Gasps echoed around us as my face flad with heat.
He turned to the girl and her brother, his voice sharp and calm. "This has affected all future relationships."
Then, without another glance, he walked out of the hall with in his arms—like he hadn’t just dropped a bomb.
My heart was hamring. My head was spinning.
And I was in the arms of the arrogant line-cutter, the stranger from the club.
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