A Celebration, A Cold Slap of Reality

(Samuel's POV)

The grand banquet hall was at its peak—laughter, applause, and champagne flowed freely.

The elite of the business world, Hollywood, and European aristocracy gathered around as Mikhail Volkov took the stage.

A man feared and respected, the head of Volkov Industries.

And tonight, he held the microphone with one goal.

To honor me.

I leaned back against the bar, whiskey in hand, watching him speak.

Mikhail's deep voice boomed through the hall, commanding attention.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I rarely speak at events like these, but tonight calls for a special announcement."

The crowd hushed, their eyes locked on him.

His sharp, ice-blue gaze swept the room before landing on me.

"Samuel Gebb."

Murmurs spread.

I raised an eyebrow, sipping my drink casually, as all attention shifted toward me.

"A man who, despite having no obligation to me or my family, risked everything to bring my son back home." Mikhail's voice was steady, but there was a weight to his words.

"Gregory was missing for months. Every attempt to find him failed. Every lead was a dead end. Hope was slipping away."

His jaw tightened. "And yet, this man—this one man—succeeded where everyone else failed."

A wave of applause erupted.

I didn't react.

I simply watched.

Volkov continued, his expression softening slightly. "For that, I owe you a debt, Samuel. A debt that I will gladly repay whenever you call upon me."

I smirked, raising my glass slightly in acknowledgment. "Noted."

The crowd chuckled, impressed.

But then—

Volkov's next words froze the room.

Mikhail chuckled, shaking his head. "And of course, there's another reason we celebrate tonight."

He glanced at his gold Rolex, then looked at the crowd with a smirk.

"Today is the 9th of September."

A pause.

Then, he turned back to me.

"And today is Mr. Samuel Gebb's birthday!"

The room fell into a stunned silence.

Gasps.

Whispers.

Shock.

Then, applause erupted once more—cheers, laughter, and the sound of glasses clinking together.

"Drinks are on me!" Volkov announced.

The crowd celebrated.

But I?

I saw something else.

A single person standing frozen.

Abigail Bardot.

Her face turned pale, her hands clenching into fists as her dark eyes widened in horror.

Because in that very moment—

She realized something.

She forgot.

The woman who once called herself my wife.

The woman who claimed she was holding on to our marriage.

She didn't even remember the one day that mattered.

And that?

That was the real slap.

Not from me.

Not from Volkov.

But from reality itself.

I took a slow sip of my whiskey, locking eyes with her from across the room.

The celebration around me continued, but my focus remained on one person.

Abigail Bardot.

She stood there, frozen, the truth hitting her harder than any insult ever could.

She forgot.

She forgot my birthday.

Not just as a wife—

Not just as someone who once claimed to love me—

But as a basic human decency.

And yet, here she was, still clinging to a marriage she had already destroyed.

How pathetic.

I took another slow sip of my whiskey, enjoying the taste of her defeat.

She slowly turned, her breathing uneven, as if she wanted to say something—

To defend herself.

But what could she say?

Nothing.

Because there was no excuse.

The whispers in the room grew louder.

People noticed.

People saw her reaction.

And they understood.

Even Joshua, the man she had clung to so desperately, looked at her with an awkward expression.

He knew.

Everyone knew.

She had no right to me anymore.

And she never would again.

I chuckled under my breath, turning my attention back to Henry—or should I say, Liberty.

I placed my empty glass on the bar. "Well, that was entertaining."

Henry smirked, swirling his own drink. "You could almost feel the moment her soul left her body."

I exhaled, shaking my head. "She was already dead to me. This was just the funeral."

Volkov approached, clapping a hand on my shoulder. "Enjoying your night, Samuel?"

I smirked. "More than I expected."

He chuckled. "Good. Because this is only the beginning."

I nodded. "Damn right it is."

The night continued.

The celebration continued.

But for Abigail Bardot?

Everything ended right there.