Tha Gala (2)

The heavy golden doors of the Montelucia Grand Hall swung open as they stepped off the red carpet, and the sudden hush that followed was almost jarring.

Inside, the gala was a vision of opulence.

Crystal chandeliers sparkled like constellations overhead. A live quartet played a soft, elegant waltz from the corner of the hall. Guests in flowing gowns and tailored tuxedos mingled over champagne flutes, their laughter and chatter weaving into a genteel hum. Every table glowed with candlelight, and the scent of white roses and expensive cologne drifted in the air.

Pearl felt out of place the second they entered.

It wasn't the gown, cause she looked exquisite. It wasn't Richard, he was composed, as always, effortlessly handsome in a sleek black tux with a deep emerald pocket square that matched her dress, a silent nod of unity.

It was everything else.

The stares. The subtle double takes. The whispers that started the moment they passed a group of guests.

Richard didn't slow down. He moved with purpose, nodding politely at familiar faces, guiding Pearl through the grand hall with one hand gently on the small of her back.

"You're doing fine," he murmured without looking at her.

"I feel like I'm drowning in eyes," she whispered back, forcing a smile at a passing couple.

"That's because you're the most stunning woman here." His voice was casual. Unbothered.

She blinked, thrown for a second. "Was that… a compliment?"

Richard didn't reply. But his lips curled slightly, like he knew exactly what he was doing.

They were stopped suddenly by an older man with silver hair and a deep voice. "Richard. I see you finally brought someone to one of these."

"Mr. DeLuca," Richard said smoothly. "Pleasure as always."

The man turned to Pearl, eyes scanning her curiously. "And you must be…?"

"Pearl Grey," she said softly, extending her hand.

He took it with a half-smile, clearly amused. "You've caused quite a stir, Miss Grey."

She forced a small laugh, unsure what else to say.

After a few more introductions and half-hearted toasts, Richard leaned close to Pearl.

"I need to speak with a few people. I'll be just over there," he said, tilting his head toward a cluster of businessmen and investors by the bar. "Stay here, alright?"

Pearl nodded. "Of course."

He gave her a brief glance, unreadable as always and walked away, swallowed quickly by the crowd.

Pearl exhaled, finally allowing herself a moment to breathe. Her fingers traced the stem of her champagne glass. The music played on, elegant and distant, but everything around her still felt loud and suffocating.

She barely noticed the man until he spoke.

"Well, well… if it isn't Montelucia's newest Cinderella."

Pearl froze. That voice.

She turned slowly and there he was, Mr. Lucas. The same man from the rooftop party. The same man who had tried to touch her without consent. He was dressed impeccably now in a dark wine-colored suit, confidence dripping from his every move like cheap cologne.

Her jaw clenched. "You."

He smirked. "Didn't expect to see you again… let alone draped in emerald and sitting next to Richard Harrison like a trophy."

"I'm not a trophy," she said tightly.

"Oh no? Then what are you, Miss Grey?" He stepped closer, voice low. "A clever little distraction? A passing obsession? Or just a beautiful lie?"

Pearl stood, unwilling to let him loom over her. "I don't owe you an answer."

Lucas chuckled darkly. "Feisty. I like that. Shame you didn't show that fire the other night… or did you save it all for him?"

Before she could retort, a voice cut through the air like silk over steel.

"Lucas," a woman said behind Pearl, "still charming as ever. I'd say some things never change… but it's more accurate to say you've simply never evolved."

He turned. "Ah, Miss Devereux. Always a pleasure."

Cassandra Devereux. CEO of one of Montelucia's leading luxury empires and heiress to the powerful Devereux Holdings. She and Richard had grown up in the same elite circles, moved in the same networks, and from what Pearl had heard, she had once been considered a potential match for him.

Cassandra was striking, tall, with bronze skin, glossy black hair swept into a sleek knot, and a body that moved like she'd never known doubt. Her silver dress shimmered every time she shifted her weight, and her red lips curled in a smile as she faced Pearl.

Cassandra gave Pearl a slow, assessing look, her red lips curling into a mocking smile.

"So... you're really Richard's fiancee?" she said, voice silky with disbelief.

Pearl lifted her chin slightly, her voice steady despite the unease curling in her stomach. "Yes, I am."

Cassandra laughed not loudly, but with the kind of quiet ridicule that sliced deeper than shouting ever could.

"I suppose everyone deserves their fifteen minutes. But let me guess… you're just a pretty convenience, aren't you?"

Pearl blinked, her throat tightening.

"I've known Richard my whole life," Cassandra continued with a calculated tilt of her head. "He doesn't fall for girls like you. No family name. No pedigree. No real place in our world. He would never stoop so low."

Her gaze trailed over Pearl's figure with surgical precision. "You look good in a pretty dress, but that's all you are. This world? It eats girls like you alive."

Pearl stood frozen, her nails digging into the clutch in her hand. Her breath came in short, shallow bursts as Cassandra gave a final smirk and turned gracefully to walk away, her heels clicking softly against the marble floor.

"Pearl stood alone for a moment, letting it all settle. Her cheeks were warm. Her heart pounded.

She blinked hard, forcing her gaze to the floor as the crowd blurred around her. Where was Richard? Why had he left her alone in a sea of wolves?

The sting in her eyes built too quickly.

Pearl turned sharply and began walking, weaving through the crowd with trembling hands. She didn't know where she was going until she saw the golden plaque: "Ladies' Restroom."

She pushed the door open and slipped inside. It was quiet, dimly lit, with elegant marble counters and soft music humming in the background.

Richard ended the conversation with the last group of investors, his tone smooth and confident, his handshake firm. The board members nodded, clearly pleased, before moving on to mingle with other elite guests.

He took a quiet breath, adjusting the cuff of his suit jacket. As he stepped away from the circle, his eyes landed on a familiar figure near the exit.

"Jaxon," he called.

The man turned at the sound of his name, his signature crooked smile already in place. "Took you long enough."

Richard approached with a light shake of the head. "You've been here the whole time and didn't even bother to say hi?"

"I got in early, didn't plan on staying long," Jaxon replied, clapping him briefly on the back. "You've been circling the sharks, so I figured I'd let you swim. But congrats, man. The Zenith deal? That's legendary."

Richard offered a nod. "Appreciate it."

Jaxon looked around, his tone growing mischievous. "So... where's the lady of the hour? I heard you brought someone. A fiancee, no less?"

Richard's lips tugged slightly at the corner. "Didn't think you'd miss that detail."

"Please, I've been hearing whispers about you all night. So, where is she?" he asked, leaning a bit to peer past Richard.

Richard turned and pointed to where Pearl had been sitting earlier.

But the seat was empty.

His smile faded instantly.

The space was untouched, her glass still half-full, but Pearl was gone.

His gaze sharpened as it darted across the room, scanning through the sea of gowns and tuxedos, but there was no sign of her emerald dress, no trace of her soft curls or the nervous poise she carried.

"She was just there," Richard said under his breath, his posture stiffening.

Jaxon arched his brow. "Don't tell me she ran off already?"

Richard didn't respond immediately, his jaw tightening slightly. He scanned the crowd again, lips pressing into a thin line.

"She wouldn't just leave," he muttered under his breath, more to himself than to Jaxon.

Jaxon gave a brief wave and disappeared toward the exit, while Richard turned on his heel, scanning the ballroom

Back in the ladies room…

Her breath caught.

She gripped the sink and stared at her reflection. Her eyes were glassy, red at the edges. Her lip quivered. The emerald dress still shimmered, but the girl wearing it suddenly looked so… small.

A tear slipped down her cheek.

Then another.

She sniffled, covering her mouth quickly to muffle the sob. Her shoulders trembled.

"Why?" she whispered to herself, her voice cracking.

Why had her peaceful life spiraled into this circus? She had already lost so much — her mother's warmth, the stability she once knew. Then heartbreak had torn through her like a storm, leaving her raw and vulnerable. And now this, the whispers, the cruel stares, the mockery from strangers who knew nothing about her.

And Richard…

Her hands balled into fists.

"Why does he get to make these decisions?" she hissed. "Why does he get to pull me into his world, claim me as his fiancee in front of the world, and then leave me here… alone?"

Just for a minute, she let it out. The doubt. The embarrassment. The way they had looked at her like she didn't belong here — like she was a mistake.

She dabbed under her eyes with a tissue, careful not to smear the masterpiece the artists had painted onto her face. But the foundation near her cheeks had already begun to fade in uneven streaks. Her mascara had betrayed her.

"Damn it," she whispered shakily.

Taking a deep breath, she reached into her clutch, pulled out a compact mirror and a few makeup wipes. She didn't know what she was doing, she just knew she couldn't look broken when she walked back out there.

She wiped carefully, dabbing more than rubbing. She touched up her lips, fluffed her hair a bit. Her eyes still looked puffy, but the worst of the damage was hidden.

Just breathe, Pearl. You're not going to let them win.

She squared her shoulders and stepped out.

The hallway was quieter now, but voices still echoed from the ballroom. As she turned the corner…

"There you are."

She stopped.

Richard stood just a few feet away, his expression unreadable but his eyes—his eyes told a different story. Concern. Frustration. A flicker of guilt?

"I've been looking for you," he said, stepping closer.

Pearl swallowed. "I just… needed a moment."

His gaze dropped to her face.

"You were crying."

She looked away. "No, I wasn't."

He sighed quietly. "Your eyes are red, Pearl."

There was a pause. The silence wasn't cold, it was heavy, wrapped in things neither of them were saying.

"I'm sorry," he said eventually. "I shouldn't have left you alone for that long."

She looked back at him, eyes flickering. "It wasn't your fault. People here just have a way of… reminding you who you are."

Richard didn't say anything as he gently took Pearl's hand and led her back into the ballroom.

He didn't ask what had happened.

He didn't need to.

He'd seen Cassandra walking away just before he found Pearl. That alone said everything.