Chapter 122

Chapter 122

Breaking free from the Martinez family's gilded cage, Harper had finally shed the dust that had dimmed her brilliance. Now she shone like a polished gem, radiating a luminescence entirely her own.

Brandon stared at the bright smile playing at the corners of her lips, his chest tightening as though an invisible hand had seized his heart. Bitterness and jealousy twisted together inside him, yet he found himself helplessly drawn to her.

He drank in every detail of her features with greedy eyes, his breathing growing labored.

Then his gaze shifted to Chase standing beside her, and his expression instantly darkened.

The way Chase looked at Harper carried undisguised admiration.

The realization sent a sharp wave of panic through Brandon. His Harper was extraordinary—sooner or later, others would see it too.

 

That evening, at the penthouse apartment.

Harper pushed open the door and froze. Brandon was sitting on the couch, waiting for her.

"Congratulations on landing the Vista Apparel partnership." Brandon rose to his feet, his deep eyes locked onto hers. His voice carried a carefully restrained warmth, almost pleading. "Are you free tonight? I made reservations. I'd like to celebrate with you."

Harper didn't pause as she slipped off her heels, her tone flat and devoid of emotion. "No need. I still have work to do."

The light in Brandon's eyes dimmed. He took a step forward, about to try again, when his phone rang at the worst possible moment.

It was his assistant with an urgent call. A critical issue had emerged with the subsidiary's acquisition—he needed to fly out immediately to handle it.

After hanging up, Brandon looked at Harper's cold profile, frustration and reluctance filling his chest. "There's an emergency at the subsidiary. I have to fly out first thing tomorrow morning. Harper, when I get back, let's celebrate properly. Please?"

"Do what you want." Harper didn't spare him a glance as she walked directly into the guest bedroom.

 

The next morning, Brandon had barely left for the airport when Harper began packing.

The penthouse was fully furnished now—she didn't want to spend another moment in this space saturated with Brandon's presence. She packed a few essentials and personal belongings, then moved directly into her new place.

Staring at the half-empty closet, Harper exhaled deeply. Even her breathing felt lighter.

 

A few days later, Abigail's gala was held at one of Rosewood City's most exclusive private clubs.

As a personally invited guest of honor, Harper arrived in an emerald silk velvet gown of her own design, her hand resting lightly on Robert's arm as they entered the ballroom.

The minimalist cut accentuated her slender waist, and her stunning figure paired with her striking features immediately drew admiring glances from across the room.

Meanwhile, a subtle commotion rippled through the entrance.

Brandon strode in wearing a bespoke black suit, his tall frame commanding attention.

He'd just returned from a business trip to Europe and hadn't even stopped at the apartment to change before rushing straight to the gala.

Half a step behind him, Luna followed in a flashy crimson haute couture gown, brazenly inserting herself into the event.

Though the White family wasn't prestigious enough to receive an invitation from the Rodriguez family, Luna had leveraged her position as a White Group representative—and more importantly, Brandon's name—to worm her way in.

She smiled coyly as she walked beside Brandon, trying to create the illusion that they had arrived together.

Several business executives who didn't know better approached with wine glasses, smiling at Brandon and the woman at his side. "Mr. Martinez, it's been too long. Is this Mrs. Martinez?"

Luna's heart soared. A shy blush colored her cheeks as she prepared to accept the assumption.

"Mr. Smith is mistaken." Brandon's voice cut through the air like a blade of ice, leaving no room for misunderstanding.

He shifted slightly, creating visible distance between himself and Luna, his eyes cold as winter frost. "This is Ms. White from White Group. I'd appreciate it if you didn't jump to conclusions, Mr. Smith. My wife wouldn't be pleased to hear such rumors."

The atmosphere plummeted to freezing.

Mr. Smith laughed awkwardly, quickly apologizing. Luna's face cycled through shades of mortification—she looked ready to sink through the floor.

She bit her lower lip hard enough to draw blood, her nails digging crescents into her palms, but she didn't dare utter a word of protest.

Brandon didn't spare her another glance. He picked up a glass of red wine and walked directly toward the center of the ballroom.

His eyes scanned the crowd, and within seconds, he found that flash of emerald.

Harper stood near the champagne tower, her head tilted slightly as she spoke quietly with Robert, a faint smile gracing her lips.

Brandon's grip on his wine glass tightened violently, jealousy and bitterness churning in his chest.

Just then, Chase—the evening's host—approached with his own glass.

"Mr. Martinez, a pleasure." Chase wore an impeccably tailored suit, his bearing reflecting the sharp discipline of his military background.

"The pleasure is mine, Mr. Rodriguez. Your mother's birthday certainly merits celebration." Brandon pulled his gaze away and clinked glasses with Chase. The two exchanged polite business pleasantries.

Midway through the conversation, Chase's eyes swept casually across the room, as though something had just occurred to him. "Word on the street is that you're married, Mr. Martinez. I'm surprised you didn't bring your wife to an event like this."

Brandon's body went rigid.

Instinctively, his eyes found Harper across the room, laughing and chatting with Robert. His throat worked painfully.

His heart felt as though it had been crushed by an invisible fist, the pain so acute he could barely breathe.

His wife was right here—radiant, magnificent—and no longer his.

Brandon lowered his lashes, hiding the profound desolation in his eyes. When he spoke, his voice was hoarse, barely recognizable. "She… had something come up tonight. She couldn't make it."

 

The ballroom lights suddenly dimmed. A spotlight illuminated the spiral staircase on the second floor.

Abigail descended gracefully, wearing the emerald silk velvet haute couture gown Harper had designed for her.

The minimalist cut perfectly complemented her regal elegance, while the subtle embroidered patterns along the hem served as a masterstroke, drawing gasps of admiration from the guests.

"That dress is absolutely stunning. Which designer created it?"

Murmurs rippled through the crowd.

Abigail wore a gracious smile as she walked directly to Harper, warmly taking her hand and introducing her to the surrounding guests. "This gown was designed by Ms. Anderson from Starlight Building."

Then Abigail turned to Chase, who stood nearby, her smile deepening. "Harper is not only extraordinarily talented but also a wonderful person. You young people should get to know each other better."

Chase's penetrating gaze settled on Harper, his admiration undisguised. "Ms. Anderson's talent speaks for itself. It's an honor for Vista Apparel—and the Rodriguez family—to collaborate with Starlight Building."