Christina’s POV
I briefly shook her hand. "Christina Vance."
"I know." Her smile was perfect. "We should have t months ago, in Paris."
"Yeah," I replied dryly.
I knew exactly what she ant. Her arrival in Hudson’s life had coincided with the beginning of our end.
I glanced past her. Hudson had vanished.
"Didn’t expect to see you here," she said conversationally.
"Likewise." I tried to sidestep her, but she subtly blocked my escape route.
Then, unexpectedly, she said, "I envy you."
"What?"
Her voice softened, contrasting with her striking appearance. "I grew up an orphan. People said my father was a murderer, and kids bullied rcilessly. Eventually I was adopted, but it wasn’t the fairytale ending everyone imagines. It was..." She trailed off.
I frowned, confused why she was sharing her life story with her ex’s wife.
"People from loving families can’t understand those like . Fortunately, I found others with similar backgrounds—Hudson, Kylian, Olivier. We started by watching each other’s backs, then moved on to running... operations. Not exactly legal, but profitable. Money ant independence from the families who never wanted us. That’s all we ever wanted."
I shifted uncomfortably. Was this a sympathy play? A not-so-subtle reminder that she’d known him longer? I already knew their history.
Lea’s voice grew gentler. "I understand why he fell for you. You both had difficult parents, but you turned out differently from us. You’re not bitter or vengeful. You’re... normal. Opposites attract, I suppose."
My eyebrows shot up. Was she serious?
Her smile brightened artificially. "But those relationships never last. Eventually, you realize you and Hudson don’t share the sa worldview. You’re too different. The relationship was dood from the start."
There it was—the real reason for this little chat. Pure gloating.
"Hudson and I are over," I stated flatly. "The relationship has already failed. Are you telling this just to congratulate yourself on predicting it?"
Before she could respond, a man’s voice interrupted. "May I have this dance?" He was looking at her.
She smiled and took his hand. "Of course." With one final smug smile in my direction, she glided onto the dance floor with him.
"Would you honor with a dance?" A handso man in a white tuxedo appeared, hand extended toward .
He had a charming smile that reminded of a young Leonardo DiCaprio in Titanic.
"I’m terrible at dancing," I admitted.
"I’d be happy to teach you," he offered with a warm smile.
He seed persistent but respectful. I nodded, deciding a distraction would do good.
Before I could take his arm, a strong hand gripped my wrist. "She’s taken."
"What a sha." The man glanced between us, shrugged, and walked away.
"What are you doing here?" I yanked my arm free from Hudson’s grip.
"I could ask you the sa question." His voice was cold, his expression harder than granite.
"I don’t owe you explanations anymore." I stepped back, creating distance between us. "If you’re looking for your girlfriend, she’s over there dancing."
Hudson frowned, following my gesture. "Lea’s—"
"Not my problem. I’m starving."
I escaped to the buffet table, loading my plate with garlic butter prawns while ntally cursing everything. Why couldn’t I act normal around him? I’d planned to be polite, maybe ask how he was doing, wish him and Lea happiness.
But the words refused to form.
I couldn’t bear to hear him finish that sentence about Lea. Couldn’t stand the confirmation that he’d moved on while I was still drowning in mories.
Akira whined pathetically. "He still slls like ours."
"Shut up," I whispered. "He’s not ours anymore."
I was the one who walked away. So why did seeing him with soone else feel like being gutted?
Maybe I just hated that he seed fine while I was still a ss. Determined to prove I could move on too, I accepted the next man’s invitation to dance.
From the corner of my eye, I spotted Lea now dancing with Hudson. The music crescendoed as they moved closer to where I stood.
Soone bumped from behind. I stumbled, caught my heel on sothing, and heard fabric tear.
Lea gasped, her hand flying to her chest. I’d accidentally stepped on her dress hem, causing one delicate strap to slip down her shoulder.
Hudson imdiately removed his jacket and draped it protectively over her.
"Are you alright?" he asked, his voice gentle.
"I’m fine." She straightened, clutching his jacket around her shoulders before glancing at .
I opened my mouth to apologize, but the words died in my throat as I stared at his jacket wrapped around her. The gesture was so familiar—he’d done the sa for countless tis.
I couldn’t look away as they left the ballroom together, his hand resting protectively on her lower back.
Akira howled in misery inside . The pain in my chest wasn’t just emotional anymore; it was physical.
"This is going to be the longest week of my life," I muttered, downing my champagne in one gulp.
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