Chapter 26 up
“They didn’t put my name on the list?”
Selina’s heels stopped inches from the marble steps of the ballroom. The doorman stood straight in his black suit, tablet in hand, eyes politely empty.
“I’m sorry, Miss Selina,” he said evenly. “Your name isn’t registered for tonight’s event.”
Selina laughed—sharp, incredulous. “That’s impossible. I’ve attended every gala this foundation has held for the last five years.”
The man did not flinch. “Tonight’s guest list was revised.”
“By who?” Selina snapped.
“I wouldn’t know, ma’am.”
Behind her, the soft hum of luxury continued—champagne glasses clinking, muted laughter, familiar voices of people who once leaned close to her, eager to hear her opinions. Now, no one turned. No one noticed her standing there.
Selina felt the first crack beneath her ribs.
“I’ll make a call,” she said coldly, already pulling out her phone.
The doorman nodded and stepped aside—not to let her in, but to let the next guest pass. A woman in emerald silk swept past Selina without so much as a glance.
Selina dialed quickly. One number. Then another.
No answer.
Her smile tightened. “Fine,” she muttered. “This is a mistake.”
She turned on her heel and walked away with her head held high, posture flawless—every inch the woman who once ruled rooms simply by entering them.
But when the car door closed behind her, the silence inside swallowed her whole.
The city lights blurred past as Selina stared out the window, nails digging into her palm.
“They’ll regret this,” she whispered.
Her driver remained silent.
She opened her phone again, scrolling through contacts that once defined her power—politicians, investors, socialites, editors.
She tapped one.
Straight to voicemail.
Another.
The number you are calling is unavailable.
Her breath hitched, just barely.
“This is temporary,” she said aloud, as if convincing the empty leather seats. “Scandals fade. People forget.”
But even as she spoke, she knew—this one had stuck.
Her name no longer evoked influence.
It evoked caution.
The next afternoon, Selina stood before the mirrored doors of a private club—one she had practically treated as her second home.
She adjusted her sunglasses, lifted her chin, and walked in.
“Selina!” a familiar voice called.
Her heart jumped—until she realized the greeting wasn’t for her.
A younger woman passed by, draped in effortless elegance, greeted with warmth Selina once commanded without effort.
At the reception desk, the attendant smiled thinly.
“Membership card, please.”
Selina blinked. “You know who I am.”
“Yes,” the woman replied carefully. “That’s why I need to verify.”
Selina slid her card across the desk.
The attendant scanned it. Paused. Then frowned.
“I’m sorry, Ms. Selina. Your access has been temporarily suspended.”
Suspended.
The word hit harder than she expected.
“For what reason?” Selina demanded.
“There’s been… a reassessment,” the attendant said, voice low. “Management decision.”
Selina leaned forward, lowering her voice. “I helped build this place’s donor network.”
The attendant met her gaze, sympathy flickering—but no mercy. “Times change.”
Selina straightened slowly.
“Then tell management,” she said icily, “they’re making a mistake.”
She turned and walked out before the attendant could respond.
Outside, the sun felt too bright. Too exposed.
Selina lowered her sunglasses, hiding eyes that had begun to burn.
At home, the penthouse felt different.
Once, it had been a fortress—a stage. Now, it was just space.
Too much space.
Selina kicked off her heels and let them fall wherever they landed. She poured herself a drink, hands shaking enough that a few drops spilled over the rim.
She didn’t clean it.
Instead, she paced.
“This is Vanesa’s fault,” she said suddenly, voice rising. “If she hadn’t—”
She stopped.
The name tasted bitter now.
Vanesa Wibisana.
The woman Selina had dismissed, underestimated, tried to erase.
The woman who had never once raised her voice—yet had dismantled Selina’s world without lifting a finger.
“And Axel,” Selina added venomously. “Weak. Always weak.”
She laughed, sharp and humorless. “I gave him everything. Direction. Power. Without me, he was nothing.”
Her laughter echoed back at her from the high ceilings.
Nothing answered.
Days passed.
Invitations stopped coming.
Messages went unread.
When Selina walked into cafés and boutiques she once dominated, conversations dipped—not in awe, but discomfort.
People looked away.
Not out of fear.
Out of avoidance.
She overheard whispers once.
“Isn’t that her?”
“The one from the scandal?”
“I thought she disappeared.”
Selina left without ordering anything.
One evening, she sat across from a woman who had once called herself Selina’s closest ally.
The restaurant was quieter than Selina was used to. Less glitter. Less power.
“I just need a reintroduction,” Selina said smoothly. “One event. One platform.”
The woman stirred her tea, not meeting Selina’s eyes. “It’s… complicated.”
“It doesn’t have to be.”
“It does now,” the woman replied gently. “Your name—”
“My name built careers,” Selina cut in.
“And now it ends them,” the woman said softly.
Silence stretched between them.
“I can’t help you,” the woman continued. “I have to protect myself.”
Selina stared at her, disbelief creeping in. “After everything I did for you?”
The woman finally looked up, eyes sad. “That’s exactly why this hurts.”
Selina pushed back her chair and stood. “Then don’t worry. I won’t ask again.”
She walked out before the woman could reply.
This time, she didn’t bother holding her head high.
That night, Selina stood alone on her balcony, the city sprawling beneath her like a kingdom she no longer ruled.
For the first time, fear crept in—not sharp, not dramatic.
Quiet.
Persistent.
“What happens now?” she whispered.
There was no one to answer.
No plan. No leverage. No next move.
Just the truth she had avoided her entire life.
She had built herself on control.
On manipulation.
On power borrowed from proximity to stronger names.
And now, stripped of all of it, she didn’t know who she was without an audience.
Her phone buzzed.
For a fleeting, desperate second, she hoped.
But it was just a news alert.
Another article. Another reminder.
Former Socialite Selina Linked to Multiple Failed Schemes—Sources Distance Themselves.
Selina sank into the chair, breath shallow.
“They’re all wrong,” she murmured. “I didn’t lose.”