Alia gulped and wiped her sweaty palms on her dress, hoping that it did not leave handprints. Her eyes darted around the ballroom nervously; the ballroom was full of suited gentlen and perfud ladies, all clad in outfits that scread wealth and extravagance.
After all, they would have to be frivolously wealthy to take part in this charity auction for the less fortunate.
Alia's eyes scanned the crowd, trying to look for her boss. He had ntioned that he needed the restroom, but half an hour had passed and he still hadn't returned. Alia decided she would give him another five minutes before she called him.
Perhaps he was suffering from a terrible stomachache. She could relate, her stomach gave a few upset growls, but that was due to incredible nervousness.
"Champagne, miss?" The waiter asked politely, and Alia gingerly took a glass. She desperately needed sothing to soothe her nerves. She felt like a fish out of water in such a classy environnt, and if it were up to her, she wouldn't have wanted to co.
But Mr. Montgory had graciously invited her to this charity auction, claiming that it would be a good way for her to rub shoulders with others in the industry. Since he was so concerned for her future career prospects, it would have been ungrateful for Alia to turn him down.
So she put on her best dress, did her own hair and makeup, and tried to seem confident when he picked her up for the gala.
But now that she was here, alone and nearly pressed against the wall of the ballroom, she wished she had rejected him. Without the protection offered by Matteo's presence, Alia felt like she was a bleeding seal effectively thrown to swim with the sharks.
"What a weird dress... did she not get the dress code?"
"Shush, maybe this is vintage."
"Isn't that another way of saying poor?"
"Watch your words! She ca with Matteo Montgory! There's no way she could be poor!"
"Matteo must be really charitable then..."
Alia stifled a sigh that threatened to erge. She had grown too old for this kind of juvenile catfighting. Maybe when Matteo returned, she could beg off with a headache and go ho after thanking him for his kindness. There was no way she could et soone who was willing to give her a chance.
Unfortunately for her, her problems were just beginning. An awfully familiar voice echoed throughout the hall, drawing all eyes to her.
"And what do we have here? Little Alia, are you lost? I guess Matteo brought the event entertainnt for tonight."
It was Caleb, with a smile so genial on his face it almost bordered on vindictiveness. She had always known that Caleb was a handso man, and in his three-piece suit that cost as much as a year's worth of rent, he was a verifiable head-turner.
But all these won who were admiring him didn't know the truth. Who knew that behind such a good-looking face laid an utterly despicable heart?
"Caleb," Alia replied evenly, her fingers wrapping around the neck of the wine glass as if she wanted to loop them around his neck. She vowed to keep her cool. Caleb deserved nothing from her.
Caleb seed disappointed that she had not burst into tears in front of him, but then the woman hanging off his arm decided to speak, her lips pursed together into a delicate pout that radiated a purity so false that Alia wanted to retch.
"Oh, is this the Alia I've heard so much about? My my Caleb, you're really cruel. How could you pick a girl that looked so much like to marry? Did you miss that much?"
The crowd burst into excited tittering, while Alia could only blink in sudden understanding.
This woman was...
"Kelsie Friesent, at your service. Thank you for looking after Caleb all this while," the woman said playfully, laughing demurely behind her hand. Her fingernails were painted with bright red polish that twinkled mockingly under the light of the chandelier.
Alia's own fingernails were depressingly bare, the skin of her fingers calloused from years of hard work, and she fought the urge to hide.
It was impossible for her to unsee the similarities in their looks. They had the sa blonde hair and blue eyes― the only difference was that Alia's hair was just a lighter shade of blonde.
And of course, the cost of their outfits. This woman was dressed in a pink couture gown with an off-shoulder neckline that gracefully frad her collarbones and shoulders, and the fitted bodice highlighted her slender waistline. Her ears were decorated with long elegant earrings that highlighted her long, slender neck.
anwhile, Alia wore a simple white sheath dress, the very sa she wore when she had registered her marriage with Caleb. It was the only thing she could find that suited the occasion. Her alternative would be to dress like the waiter that handed out the drinks.
Never had she felt so inadequate before. Kelsie Friesent's words had opened up every insecurity she had― it was as though she was looking into an upgraded, more perfect version of herself.
As if to rub salt on her wound, Caleb chuckled, giving Kelsie a fond glance before pecking her on the cheek.
"Now you know how much you an to ," Caleb said, wrapping his arm around her waist. "Who else would marry such a poor substitute just because he missed you so much?"
Kelsie cooed lovingly at him and stroked his cheek. Caleb leaned into her touch, as though he was a dog and she his master.
Disgusting. Alia spun around, ready to leave these two shaless lovebirds in their own world, but of course her ex-husband and new lover would not let her go unscathed.
Caleb stepped forward and grabbed a glass of red wine. "Alia, since we've t, we should have a toast, don't you think so?"
"No," Alia said flatly, trying to escape, but the two of them cornered, refusing to let her walk away.
"Nonsense," Kelsie said. She grabbed her own glass of wine from another waiter. "Let us toast to new beginnings!"
Next thing Alia knew, with the sound of clinking glass, she was drenched in alcohol, slling like the bottom of a wine barrel.
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