Chapter 2

Once, I contemplated seeking him out, even entertaining the humbling idea of trying to rekindle our relationship.

Eventually, though, I moved on.

I departed from the main city, presuming he was still focused on his professional ambitions. Unexpectedly, he had also come back to Bellemont.

"Papa, Briar wants some prawns," the charming young girl chirped, her voice as soft as her appearance.

So, he was a father now?

Was he also wedded?

Had he tied the knot with Amara?

Amara's words interrupted my musings, "Over here, Briar. Mommy will fetch you some prawns."

She shot a quick, challenging look my way before focusing on Gabriel again.

"Former schoolmate, it's been a decade, right?"

"I recall you got accepted into Ivory Heights Academy back then. How did you end up as a server from there?"

With a flourish, Amara set the prawns on the little girl's dish and then redirected her attention to me, her expression filled with contempt.

"You're approaching thirty, yet you're still just a server? Isn't that somewhat shameful? You could have at least become a manager."

Her statement lingered, followed by the chuckles of those around us.

Everyone present, just like ten years prior, instinctively aligned themselves with Amara.

Their reasoning was straightforward: whoever Amara ridiculed, they would join in, hoping to gain some favor for future advantages.

During school, those perks might have been as insignificant as a pack of cigarettes she carelessly discarded.

Now, they likely hoped for something as valuable as a respectable position.

Given the need to survive, I couldn't entirely blame their actions.

I smiled, my expression as composed as ever, and set down the wine bottle. My gaze met Amara's.

"I'm just here to deliver some wine. I hope you all have a pleasant evening," I stated, my tone smooth and collected.

With that, I made to exit.

I had briefly considered revealing my true identity, of putting this privileged girl in her place.

But an experienced businesswoman knows better. Dignity and restraint always surpass immature antics.

Such trivial behavior wasn't worth my energy.

As for Gabriel... I didn't give him another look.

It was futile.

He was now married with a child. What was the point of dwelling on the past? Why entangle myself in it any further?

But then, a voice cut through the atmosphere.

"Cassia, Amara didn't say you could depart."

I turned to see Matthews Whitlock.

He had stood up, as always, Amara's loyal follower. A decade ago, he had been the same, and here he was now, still playing his role.

His position near the exit was no coincidence. It was the spot of someone who existed solely to run errands for her at a moment's notice.

Amara rose too, pushing herself up from the table with a grace that still made her appear untouchable.

"Cassia, it's been ten years," she said, her voice laced with artificial sweetness. "Since you've come all this way to our reunion, why not stay with us for a bit?"

I smiled faintly, my gaze cool.

"I still have tasks to complete," I replied, my voice steady.

"I'll do my best to become a manager before I hit thirty."

Another burst of raucous laughter followed as if I had just shared the most ridiculous joke.

I couldn't comprehend what they found so amusing.

Was being a manager at Midnight Reverie really something to mock?

Sure, after all the deductions for insurance and housing, it left me with about 20,000 a month. Add the thirteenth-month salary and benefits, and it wasn't a sum to scoff at.

Was that truly so absurd?

I examined them more closely.

Their attire was tidy and polished, certainly, but they were nothing more than mass-produced items, the kind anyone could purchase at a shopping center.

The car keys scattered across the table were mostly for average to lower-end vehicles.

Yet, despite all this, their eyes shone with a smug superiority as though they ruled the world.

Where did that inflated sense of self-importance stem from?

Nyla Merrick, noticing my glance at the car keys, sneered with a mix of pride and disdain.

"Cassia, don't tell me you don't even own a vehicle?" she taunted. "My Ford may only cost a bit over a hundred thousand, but at least it's got four wheels. Are you still zipping around on that electric scooter?"

I met her gaze, unruffled. "Oh, I use shared bicycles," I replied calmly.

My high-rise apartment was just a short distance from the club, and cycling was often quicker and more convenient than any car.

Laughter erupted once again, the same empty sound as before.

It seemed that without me, they had no one left to ridicule.

After all, they were all just Amara's followers; they couldn't very well mock one another.

Nyla turned to Gabriel with a smirk, her words dripping with false kindness.

"Gabriel, you made a smart decision ending things with her back then. If you hadn't, you might be perched on a bicycle, sobbing your heart out right now."