Chapter 8 up
“Do you really think you deserve to stand here?”
Selina’s voice cut sharply through the final lingering note of the string quartet, slicing the air with deliberate precision. Conversations faltered. Heads turned. The gentle clink of crystal ceased mid-motion as Vanesa’s glass froze inches from her lips.
“I didn’t ask for your opinion,” Vanesa replied calmly, though the tension in her jaw betrayed the effort it took to sound composed.
Selina let out a short, humorless laugh. “Of course you didn’t. You’ve always been good at pretending you’re unaffected.” She stepped closer—close enough for her perfume to sting, heavy and invasive. “I’m just curious how long you plan to hide behind your parents’ name to feel important.”
Around them, the ballroom subtly slowed. Laughter dimmed. Conversations thinned. An invisible circle began to form, curiosity tightening its grip.
Vanesa lowered her glass with deliberate care. “I’m not using anyone.”
“Don’t insult me,” Selina sneered. “You came alone. No title. No position. If you’re not here begging for sympathy, then what exactly are you doing?”
Axel shifted uneasily beside Selina. “Selina, that’s enough.”
“No,” she snapped without looking at him. “I’m tired of this performance.”
She lifted her hand and pointed at Vanesa’s chest. “Women like you are all the same. You fail to keep your marriage, then drift into elite parties like this just to feel relevant again.”
Vanesa knocked Selina’s hand away before it could touch her.
The movement was instinctive. Sharp. Final.
Skin met skin.
A small sound echoed—barely more than a muted slap—but in the sudden silence, it might as well have been thunder.
Selina stumbled half a step back, eyes widening before her expression twisted into something darker. Her cheeks flushed crimson.
“How dare you touch me!” she shouted.
Vanesa drew in a slow breath. “Don’t touch me first.”
“Oh, now you’re fighting back?” Selina laughed, though her voice trembled. “Or is this part of your plan—to look like the victim?”
She shoved Vanesa’s shoulder lightly, but with enough force to push her back a step.
Gasps rippled through the onlookers. Someone covered their mouth. Someone else discreetly raised a phone.
“Selina,” Axel warned, his voice low and controlled. “Stop.”
Selina turned to him, eyes shining with unshed tears. “You saw that, didn’t you? She attacked me.”
Axel looked at Vanesa. Her face had gone pale, but her eyes remained steady.
“You didn’t need to make a scene,” he said coldly. “This is an important event.”
Vanesa stared at him for a long moment. “You call this a scene?”
“You started it,” Axel cut in. “You should have known your place.”
A sharp intake of breath swept through the crowd. Axel Armand was not a man whose words carried little weight. His name alone commanded rooms.
Vanesa’s lips curved into a faint, incredulous smile. “Know my place?” she echoed softly. “That’s rich, coming from you.”
Selina raised her voice again. “See? She hasn’t changed at all—still acting like she’s always right.”
Vanesa turned her gaze to Selina. “I wasn’t speaking to you.”
Selina stepped forward again, this time with less restraint. Her fingers closed around Vanesa’s wrist.
Vanesa reacted immediately, pulling free.
There was a brief struggle. Fabric wrinkled. Selina’s heel slipped slightly against the marble floor.
“Ouch!” Selina cried loudly—too loudly. She turned to the surrounding guests at once. “You all saw that, didn’t you?”
Camera flashes erupted.
One. Two. Three.
Axel moved quickly, positioning himself in front of Selina, his body a shield.
“Enough!” he said loudly. “You’ve crossed a line, Vanesa.”
The ballroom froze.
Vanesa looked at him in disbelief. “You didn’t even ask what happened.”
Axel’s hands clenched at his sides. “I saw it with my own eyes.”
“You saw what you wanted to see,” she replied.
Selina dabbed at the corner of her eye, trembling just enough to sell the act. “I never imagined she’d be so violent in public.”
Whispers began to coil through the room.
“Isn’t she his ex-wife?”
“She caused trouble at a Wibisana family event?”
“This is inappropriate…”
Vanesa could feel the invisible walls closing in around her. Judgment pressed from all sides. Still, she straightened her back.
“I didn’t come here to fight,” she said clearly. “But I won’t allow myself to be humiliated.”
Axel laughed softly, without warmth. “You’ve always been good at shifting blame.”
He turned to the guests, as though addressing a boardroom rather than a ballroom. “My apologies for this unpleasant display. Personal emotions should never be brought into an event of this scale.”
The words fell like a verdict.
Selina leaned into him, her role flawless.
More flashes burst through the air.
In the corner of the room, a silver-haired man—Southeast Asia’s largest energy investor—set his glass down.
He stood.
The scrape of his chair was quiet, yet it carried.
“This is unprofessional,” he said coolly.
His gaze locked onto Axel. “If this is how you handle conflict, I question the stability of your company.”
Silence swallowed the room whole.
Axel stiffened. “Sir—”
The man raised a hand. “No need.”
He turned and walked away.
One by one, others followed.
A Swiss banker murmured, “I don’t want my name attached to a scandal like this.”
A cabinet minister left without a word.
Each departing step felt like a nail driven into Axel’s reputation.
Selina’s composure cracked. “Axel… why are they leaving?”
Axel swallowed hard. His face had gone pale.
Vanesa watched it all without speaking. Her chest rose and fell, steady despite the storm.
The final camera flash captured her expression—not anger, not triumph.
Emptiness.
From across the ballroom, Adrian Wibisana finally stepped forward. Not rushed. Not hesitant.
His mere movement commanded attention.
He stopped beside Vanesa.
“This event is over for those who don’t know how to conduct themselves,” he said evenly.