Chapter 18: The Breaking Point

Chapter 18: The Breaking Point

As soon as Ariana walked through the grand entrance hall of the oceanside resort, murmurs stirred like waves on the shore. Eyes trailed her, half curious, half pitiful. Polished shoes halted mid-step, conversations stuttered, and a hundred whispers bloomed in corners like poisonous flowers.

She didn’t have to ask.

Antony had made his move.

There it was flashing on the bar’s oversized screen like a scandalous headline. A still image from a hotel corridor: Antony, in his signature gray suit, standing far too close to a mysterious woman whose hand lingered on his chest. Their faces neared each other’s ears, intimate enough to imply more than a conversation.

A lovers’ scandal? A betrayal? A crumbling engagement?

The Cameloe heiress exposed?

Ariana didn’t flinch.

Her expression remained as pristine as the ivory fabric of her gown. She advanced with poise, her posture saying what her voice never had to: this didn’t shake her.

If anything, it strengthened her resolve.

People followed her every move with bated breath. They expected a crack in her facade a trembling hand, tear filled eyes, an angry outburst.

They would be disappointed.

The screen’s glow bathed her skin in pale light, but it was the fire in her gaze that demanded attention. She approached the bar with elegance and requested a glass of wine, her voice clear and unshaken.

The bartender paused midway while pouring. “Miss Cameloe… I, uh, hope you are okay.”

Ariana tilted her head with the barest of smiles. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

That single question drifted through the crowd like smoke. The effect was instantaneous. Friends and strangers alike exchanged glances, reevaluating what they thought they knew. Was she already aware? Was this part of something larger?

She took a sip.

Delicious.

Rachel’s approach was hard to miss the distinct clack of designer heels clicking against the marble. Ariana didn’t even need to look. She felt the satisfaction oozing from Rachel’s calculated steps.

“Too composed,” Rachel murmured as she slid next to her, eyes gleaming with thinly veiled smugness. “I thought you will be...”

Ariana turned to her with amused eyes, setting her wine glass aside. “Distraught? Heartbroken?”

She offered Rachel a pleasant smile.

“You sound disappointed, Rachel.”

The fake concern faltered just enough to reveal the truth. Rachel masked it with a sympathetic tilt of her head.

“I just thought… after everything, you’d at least have something to say.”

Ariana’s laughter was soft and light, as though they were discussing the weather.

“Antony is a grown man. If he behaves this way on his own, why should I feel embarrassed?”

Rachel’s fingers twitched. Not the reaction she had hoped for.

Ariana leaned in slightly, her voice a whisper only Rachel could hear. “Let me ask you something. What’s more humiliating than a woman who ignores a scandal or a woman who sets one up and watches it fall apart?”

Rachel’s face lost its composure, her smile gone.

Ariana straightened, finished her wine, and turned away.

“Enjoy the rest of your evening, Rachel.”

As she walked, the air seemed lighter. The curious stares followed, but now they held confusion. Doubt.

Right as she reached the archway leading out of the room, someone stepped in front of her.

Antony.

His face was carefully composed, but the tension in his jaw betrayed his emotions. His shoulders stiff, his eyes clouded with unreadable thoughts.

“We need to talk,” he said, voice low.

Ariana gave a small nod. She didn’t need to ask. Of course he wouldn’t want an audience. He led her to a private lounge—a dimly lit, secluded room with velvet chairs and muted paintings.

Once the door closed, silence held them for a breath.

Antony turned to face her, eyes searching. “You didn’t say anything. You didn’t even react.”

She tilted her head. “Should I have?”

He frowned. “You seem completely indifferent about this situation.”

Ariana stepped closer, her calm unsettling him. “You expected me to scream? Cry? Start clawing at your chest in front of everyone?”

His lips parted, but she wasn’t finished.

“Would it make you feel better if I caused a scene?”

Antony ran a hand through his hair, frustration rising. “Damn it, Ariana. I know you. I know you still ”

She lifted her hand, palm out. “Stop.”

He froze.

“I have spent enough time being controlled by your dramatics. If this was meant to get a reaction, it failed.”

His jaw clenched. “Then tell me the truth.”

Her voice was like glass smooth but dangerous.

“About what?”

He stepped forward until only inches remained between them. “Is there someone else?”

His words hung in the air, heavy with desperation. For a moment, Ariana said nothing.

She stared into his eyes, her own unwavering. “And if there was?”

A breath caught in his throat.

And just like that, the doubt was born.

Ariana stepped past him, her voice calm as she reached for the door. “Next time, Antony, if you want to break me… try harder.”

The door clicked shut behind her, and Antony remained alone.