Chapter 136

The grand ballroom of the Sterling Plaza was a suffocating sea of gold leaf, crystal chandeliers, and the nauseating scent of expensive perfume.

Outside, the worst blizzard City A had seen in a decade was violently tearing through the streets. Inside, the elite hummed with laughter and clinking champagne glasses.

Serena Vance stood near the heavy velvet drapes, her vision swimming.

Her head pounded with the relentless, rhythmic thud of a 103-degree fever. Her breathing was shallow, every inhale rattling against her chest.

She casually pressed a hand against the freezing glass of the window, trying to anchor herself to reality.

She had been awake for seventy-two hours straight, finalizing the merger of Sterling Holdings with a European conglomerate, scrubbing Julian’s financial errors from the ledger, and organizing this exact anniversary gala.

Today marked exactly five years since she had become Julian Sterling’s Executive Assistant. Five years of being his ghostwriter, his crisis manager, his shield, and—she had foolishly believed—his secret partner.

Just hold on, she told herself, swallowing the bile rising in her throat.

He promised tonight would be special. Julian had instructed her to track down the "Tears of Aphrodite," a twenty-million-dollar vintage diamond necklace from a private collector in Briston.

It had taken her three weeks of ruthless negotiations and calling across time zones at 3:00 AM to secure it.

Julian had smiled—a rare, breathtaking smile—when she handed him the velvet box yesterday.

He had told her to wear her best dress tonight. He said there was an important announcement.

Serena touched the collar of her modest, tailored black evening gown. She wasn't born into wealth. Everything she wore, she had bought with the meager salary she barely had time to spend.

But her heart fluttered with a pathetic, resilient hope. Five years of freezing in his shadow, and finally, he was going to acknowledge her.

He was going to put a ring on her finger.

"Ladies and gentlemen," a smooth, resonant voice echoed through the ballroom.

The low hum of chatter instantly died. Serena’s gaze snapped to the grand staircase. There he was. Julian Sterling.

He was devastatingly handsome, dressed in a bespoke midnight-blue tuxedo that highlighted his broad shoulders and sharp, aristocratic jawline. His cold, dark eyes swept over the crowd like a king surveying his subjects.

Serena’s heart skipped a beat, ignoring the agonizing ache in her chest.

"Thank you all for braving the storm to celebrate the success of Sterling Holdings," Julian spoke into the microphone, his tone effortlessly commanding. "But tonight is not just about business. It is about righting a wrong. It is about welcoming home the missing piece of my life."

Serena’s breath hitched. A hesitant smile touched her pale lips.

This is it.

"For years, my heart has been across the ocean," Julian continued, his voice softening in a way Serena had never, ever heard.

It wasn't the voice he used with her in the boardroom. It was tender.

"But today, the love of my life has finally returned. Please welcome, Chloe."

The ballroom doors opened.

Serena’s entire world stopped spinning. It didn't just stop; it shattered into a million jagged pieces.

Walking down the grand staircase was a woman who looked like she had stepped out of a fairytale.

Chloe possessed a delicate, fragile beauty—large doe eyes, porcelain skin, and a custom white gown that made her look like an ethereal swan.

But what made the air completely vanish from Serena’s lungs was the heavy, glittering weight resting against Chloe’s collarbone.

The Tears of Aphrodite.

The necklace Serena had bled herself dry to acquire. The necklace she thought was for her.

The applause was deafening.

Julian descended the stairs, took Chloe’s delicate hand, and kissed her knuckles. The look in his eyes was one of absolute, undisguised worship.

A sharp ringing sound pierced Serena’s ears. The fever spiked, making her knees tremble. The whispers of the socialites standing merely feet away drifted into her consciousness like venomous snakes.

"Look at Serena over there by the curtains. She looks like a corpse."

"Did you hear? She thought she was going to be Mrs. Sterling."

"How pathetic. A glorified workhorse thinking she could compete with the Sterling family's white moonlight. Chloe has been Julian's true love since they were teenagers."

"A crow can never become a phoenix, no matter how many hours it works."

Serena couldn’t breathe. Five years. She had alienated her friends, drained her youth, and destroyed her health to build Julian’s empire.

He had let her believe she mattered. He had used her devotion to line his pockets, only to crown another woman with the fruits of her labor.

Before she realized what her legs were doing, she was moving forward. She needed air. She needed to leave before she collapsed.

But as she took a trembling step toward the exit, a soft, sickeningly sweet voice called out.

"Serena? Oh, Serena, wait!"

Chloe broke away from Julian’s side, walking gracefully across the marble floor toward her. The crowd parted.

Hundreds of eyes locked onto the miserable, pale assistant and the glowing, triumphant heiress.

Chloe stopped a foot away, a picture of absolute innocence.

"Julian told me everything. He told me how hard you worked to negotiate for this necklace to welcome me back. You're such a loyal employee, Serena. Thank you."

The words were a public execution.

To welcome me back. Loyal employee.

Serena stared into Chloe’s wide, apologetic eyes. But beneath the innocent facade, Serena saw the briefest, sharpest glint of mockery.

Chloe knew exactly what she was doing.

"Excuse me," Serena rasped, her voice cracking. "I am unwell. I need to go."

"Oh, don't be like that!" Chloe reached out, her manicured fingers grabbing Serena’s wrist. Her grip was surprisingly tight. "Please, just stay for a toast…"

"Let go of me," Serena said, trying to pull her arm back. She had no strength. Her head was spinning violently.

"Serena, please, don't be jealous…" Chloe gasped dramatically.

And then, she let go.

She threw her own weight backward, her high heel purposely catching on the hem of her white gown making her crash directly into a towering, ten-tier pyramid of crystal champagne glasses.

The sound of shattering glass was explosive. Champagne exploded like a geyser, drenching the floor.

Chloe lay amidst the wreckage, a small, superficial cut on her arm bleeding onto her pristine white dress. She began to sob hysterically.