Chapter 46: Red
The Valois Mansion ballroom had transformed into a sea of silk, diamonds, and beautifully packaged hypocrisy. Hundreds of candles inside the crystal chandeliers were lit, creating a golden refraction of light that reflected on the champagne glasses in the hands of the guests.
Waltz music played softly, masking sharp whispers about illegal businesses and fragile alliances. In the center of the room, Melynda stood like a queen bee, wearing a stunning gold dress, laughing shrilly in response to a senator's joke that was not actually funny at all.
However, all that laughter and clinking of glasses died instantly when the orchestra stopped playing.
All eyes looked up toward the grand curving staircase.
At the top of the stairs, Xavier stood tall. His black tuxedo suit was cut perfectly, wrapping a body that radiated an aura of absolute dominance. His hair was slicked back neatly, accentuating his hard jawline. However, it was not him who made the whole room hold its breath.
It was the woman on his arm.
Agatha stepped forward. The red velvet dress gifted by Cardios hugged her body like a second skin, dangling beautifully sweeping the marble floor. The red color was so deep, contrasting with her pale skin.
Her back was straight, her chin lifted with a natural arrogance. The antique ruby necklace on her neck gleamed dimly, as if warning anyone who dared to stare too long.
"Smile," whispered Xavier without turning, his hand gripping Agatha's fingers tightly on his arm. "They all bow to you."
"They are not bowing," replied Agatha softly, her eyes sweeping the crowd down there. "They are hungry. They are assessing whether I am prey or predator."
"Then show your fangs."
They began to descend the stairs. Every step Agatha took sounded silent but echoed in the minds of the guests. The sound of velvet fabric rubbing gently sounded like a subtle threat.
In the corner of the room, Marco stood in the shadows, observing with an unreadable gaze. His presence was an unwritten seal of approval from Cardios Volskey.
As their feet touched the dance floor, the crowd parted naturally, making way for the hosts. Xavier did not let go of Agatha for even a second. His arm was now wrapped around his wife's slender waist, possessive and territorial.
"Happy birthday, Mom," Xavier greeted flatly when they reached Melynda.
Melynda looked at her son, then switched to Agatha with glassy eyes.
"You two..." Melynda held her breath. "You look like the most stunning pair of rulers. Very beautiful."
Agatha smiled thinly. "That is a unique compliment, Mom."
Before Melynda could hug them, a voice interrupted. A voice that was sweet, yet full of poison.
"A very touching sight."
Agatha turned slowly. Elena stood there, wearing a plain white dress that made her look like a lost angel. Beside her stood Vivian in a silver dress that was too glittering, her chin held high challengingly.
Xavier tensed beside Agatha. A cold air immediately emanated from the man's body. "Who allowed trash to enter here?"
"Do not be rude, Xavier," said Vivian with a disparaging smile. "My father is an honorary council member. I have a right to be here. And Elena... well, she just wanted to say congratulations."
Elena stepped forward a bit, her wet eyes looking at Xavier with feigned longing.
"Xav... I am happy to see you happy," said Elena softly, her voice deliberately made to tremble so it could be heard by the people around them. "Even though it hurts to see my place replaced this quickly by... someone whose origin we do not even know."
Whispers began to be heard. Some female guests covered their mouths with their fans, waiting for drama.
Vivian laughed lightly, stepping closer to Agatha. She looked at the red dress with a hidden look of disgust.
"A dress that is... bold," commented Vivian. "Bright red. Usually, colors like this are worn by comfort women in the red-light district to be seen by customers. Do you miss your old job?"
Silence.
Melynda was about to step forward to slap Vivian, but Agatha's hand stopped her.
Agatha released herself from Xavier's embrace slowly. She did not retreat. She took one step forward, shortening the distance with Vivian. Their heights were almost the same, but Agatha's aura made Vivian look dwarfed.
"Red," said Agatha calmly, her voice clearly cutting through the silence. "Is the color of blood, Vivian. The color of life. The color of power."
Agatha tilted her head slightly, staring into Vivian's irises which began to waver.
"And about comfort women... at least they work hard to live. Whereas you? You are just a parasite living off your father's big name, wearing diamonds bought with money from extorting others, and feeling entitled to insult people whose position is far above you."
Vivian's face turned bright red from shame and anger. "Who do you think you are? You are just a display wife picked up from the street!"
"I am Mrs. Valois," interrupted Agatha sharply, her tone turning piercingly cold. "And this dress... is a direct gift from Don Cardios Volskey."
That name exploded like a bomb in the middle of the room. Vivian's face paled instantly. Elena stepped back, terrified.
Agatha touched the ruby necklace on her neck. "Do you know what it means to insult Cardios's gift in public, Vivian? It means you are digging a grave for your father's business."
Vivian gasped, her words stuck in her throat. She glanced at Marco in the corner of the room who was now looking at her sharply while holding a phone, as if ready to report everything.
"And you, Elena," Agatha turned to the woman beside Vivian.
Elena flinched.
"Stop looking at my husband as if he is your lost wallet," hissed Agatha low, but loud enough to be heard by the immediate circle. "Xavier never belonged to you. He is a king, and a king needs a queen, not a crybaby girl who can only hold a tissue."
Agatha turned around, returning to Xavier's side who looked at her with a burning gaze, a mixture of pride and dark desire.
"Music!" ordered Xavier loudly.
The orchestra played again nervously. Xavier pulled Agatha's waist, taking her to the center of the dance floor.
"You are cruel," whispered Xavier in Agatha's ear as they began to move to the waltz rhythm.
"I learned from the best," replied Agatha, looking into her husband's green eyes.
"You are truly my little rose, my queen," Xavier kissed Agatha's temple in front of hundreds of pairs of eyes, claiming her once again. "And tonight, Paris knows who the owner of the throne really is."
In a dark corner of the room, Marco typed a short message on his phone and sent it to Cardios's private number in Zurich.
Subject safe. She just destroyed the mental state of a council member's daughter without touching her physically at all. She has a tongue as sharp as her dagger, Don.
The party continued, but the atmosphere had changed. No one dared to look at Agatha with contempt anymore. The red dress was now no longer just fabric, but a war flag waving victoriously over the Valois fortress.