CHAPTER 44

CHAPTER 44
Mila

Jade stood beside me.

Her fingers were wrapped firmly around Isabelle’s wrist, not tight enough to bruise, not loose enough to escape. It was the kind of grip that didn’t need force to make its point. Controlled. Certain. Final.

Her posture was relaxed, almost casual, as though stopping a slap in a room filled with elite socialites was nothing more than a mild inconvenience.

Isabelle stared down at her restrained hand like it had betrayed her.

“What...” she hissed, her voice sharp with disbelief. “Let go of me.”

Jade tilted her head slightly, studying her with mild curiosity, as if Isabelle were a puzzle piece she hadn’t decided was worth fitting yet.

“Is this how the Poise ladies solve their problems?” Jade asked calmly. “With violence?”

The word landed like a slap of its own.

A collective gasp rippled through the room, sharp and startled. Teacups paused midair. Conversations died on lips that had been eager moments ago.

Anita rose slowly from her seat. Every movement was stiff, controlled, deliberate. The practiced grace of a woman who had ruled rooms like this her entire life.

“Jade,” she said, forcing a tight smile. “This is a small matter.” She waved a hand dismissively. “We will deal with it.”

Jade didn’t even look at her.

“A small matter, Mrs. Armstrong,” Jade replied coolly. “Your daughter in law was almost slapped by Isabelle.”

The room went deathly quiet.

“It’s a family matter,” Anita said quickly, her voice carrying an edge of nervousness now, as though Jade was not someone to be challenged lightly. “We will solve it.”

“Then perhaps it should have stayed within the family,” Jade replied, finally turning her gaze toward Anita. “Instead of being put on display for half the city to witness.”

Isabelle tugged at her wrist, panic flickering beneath her fury. “You’re hurting me!”

Jade glanced down at her hand, then loosened her grip slightly, but did not release it.

“No,” she said simply. “I’m stopping you.”

The women around the table exchanged uneasy glances. This was no longer gossip fodder. This was no longer entertainment.

This was a spectacle.

Someone cleared her throat awkwardly. “Well… accidents do happen.”

“Do they?” Jade asked, lifting a brow.

Her gaze swept across the table, sharp, unflinching, assessing each woman in turn.

“Because from where I was standing,” she continued, “I saw deliberate provocation, deliberate humiliation, and an attempted assault.”

My chest tightened painfully.

Attempted assault.

Anita’s smile twitched. “You’re exaggerating.”

“No,” Jade said quietly. “I’m naming it.”

The silence that followed was suffocating.

Jade finally released Isabelle’s wrist. Isabelle stumbled back a step, clutching her arm as though she had been wounded, her face twisted with fury and disbelief.

“How dare you take her side?” Isabelle snapped, pointing directly at me. “She’s the one who...”

“Was pushed,” Jade cut in sharply. “By one of your guests.”

Every head turned toward the woman seated closest to me, the one who had smirked just before shoving my elbow.

She stiffened. “I didn’t.”

“You did,” Jade said flatly. “And you know it.”

The woman flushed crimson and looked away, suddenly fascinated by her teacup.

Anita’s fingers curled around the edge of the table.

“Jade,” she said tightly, “this is unnecessary. Mila should know her place.”

There it was.

My place.

Jade turned slowly to face Anita then, her expression sharpening, not angry, but cold. Calculated.

“Her place,” Jade repeated slowly, “is not as a servant at your table.” Her eyes hardened. “She is Lance’s wife, for goodness sake.”

Anita scoffed. “You don’t know anything about....”

“I know enough,” Jade interrupted. “Enough to know you invited her here to break her. To humiliate her. Enough to know you underestimated how visible cruelty becomes when it’s done in public.”

A murmur spread through the room, louder now, restless and uncomfortable.

One woman leaned toward another. “Is she serious?”

“This is getting out of hand…”

Jade turned to me then.

Her gaze softened, not with pity, but something steadier.

Respect.

“You don’t belong on the serving side of this room,” she said gently. “And you never did.”

My throat tightened.

Before I could stop myself, the words slipped out. “I didn’t mean to cause trouble.”

Isabelle laughed sharply. “Of course you didn’t. That’s all you ever do...play innocent.”

Jade’s eyes flicked back to Isabelle. “Careful,” she warned quietly.

Isabelle straightened, lifting her chin. “Or what?”

Jade smiled then.

But it wasn’t warm.

“Or people might start asking,” Jade said evenly, “why you’re still clinging onto Lance like a leech all these years...even when he was married to Irene, and now Mila.”

That did it.

The room erupted into whispers.

Anita’s composure cracked for the first time.

“What are you implying?” she demanded.

Jade picked up her clutch from the table with deliberate calm. “Nothing at all,” she replied. “For now.”

She turned back to me. “You should leave,” she said softly. “You’ve endured enough for one evening.”

I hesitated, glancing around the room, the stares, the judgment, the brittle smiles that no longer hid their discomfort.

Then I looked at Anita.

She didn’t speak.

Didn’t command.

Didn’t dismiss me.

She simply watched, eyes sharp, calculating, furious.

I set the teapot down slowly, my hands steady despite the storm raging inside me.

“Thank you,” I said to Jade.

She nodded once. “This isn’t over,” she murmured.

I walked away.

Past the women who had mocked me.

Past Isabelle, who glared like she wanted to tear me apart.

Past Anita, whose silence screamed of retaliation.

As I reached the doorway, Jade’s heels clicked behind me.

“I believe I’ve had enough tea,” she announced to the room. “Good evening.”

No one stopped her.

No one dared.

We stepped into the corridor together, the doors closing behind us with a final, echoing thud.

The air felt different out here. Lighter. Sharper.

I exhaled a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.

“Why did you help me?” I asked quietly.

Jade studied me for a long moment.

“Because,” she said slowly, “you’re standing in the middle of a war you didn’t start.”

My stomach dropped.

“And because,” she added, lowering her voice, “Lance is a good friend of mine. It’s the least I can do.”

I turned toward her, heart pounding. “Thank you,” I said.

My phone buzzed in my hand.

I glanced at the screen.

My expression changed.

Just slightly.

“It seems,” Jade said softly, “you saw something you didn’t like.”

And the name flashing across the screen made my blood run cold.

It was lance

I put the phone to
my ear and paused, waiting to hear his voice, the voice I hadn’t heard in days.

“Mila…” he called quietly.

“It’s Mary.”

“What happened to Mary?” I screamed back as hot tears streamed down my face.