Chapter 57: You look attractive though

victory months in the making. For everyone at Voss Enterprises, it marked the end of sleepless nights and relentless deadlines. Adrian stood before his employees that morning, his usually stern face softened by satisfaction.

“Since we signed the deal,” he said, his deep voice steady and confident, “it’s all thanks to your hard work. I’m throwing a party to celebrate our success.”

The room erupted in cheers. Laughter filled the air, and even the tiredest employees smiled in relief. But amid the celebration sat one woman who didn’t share their excitement Zara. Her expression remained unreadable, her hands neatly folded on the table as she looked anywhere but at him.

Adrian’s gaze, however, kept drifting toward her. Each time, she felt the weight of it but refused to meet his eyes. She was done pretending, done hoping, done with the man who kept confusing her heart.

That evening, instead of heading straight home, Zara took a detour into town. She stopped by a boutique, scanning through racks of gowns. If there was going to be a party where everyone would be dressed to impress, she wasn’t about to fade into the background. She found a sleek gown elegant, with a soft shimmer that caught the light just right. She didn’t buy it to impress Adrian. No, this was for her.

When she arrived at the party, she realized she’d been right, everyone was dressed to kill. Laughter echoed through the hall, glasses clinked, and music hummed softly under the buzz of conversation. Zara slipped through the crowd gracefully, her perfume faint but distinct, her head held high.

She reached for a drink from the table when a low, familiar voice brushed against her ear.

“I don’t think you can handle that,” Adrian whispered.

His words sent a wave of goosebumps across her skin before she even turned. His breath was warm, close enough to feel. She turned slowly, her expression cool and detached.

“Hey, sir,” she said with a hint of mockery. “You don’t get to tell me what to do. You’re not my father.”

Then she walked away, her heels clicking sharply against the marble floor.

Adrian stood there, half amused, half stung. She was fire beautiful, defiant fire.

Zara found Claire near the buffet, and the two exchanged easy laughter. But no matter how much she tried to lose herself in the moment, the encounter with Adrian lingered in her mind like a shadow she couldn’t shake. She took a slow sip of her drink, forcing herself to ignore the way his voice still echoed in her thoughts.

As she excused herself to head to the restroom, her evening took a sudden turn. A sharp tug stopped her mid-step someone had stepped on her gown.

She looked down, then up, and saw Rosey, her expression dripping with smug satisfaction.

“We have enough workers tonight,” Rosey said with a sweet but poisonous tone. “No need for you to help us sweep.”

Zara’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t blame your lack of fashion sense on me. Your dress looks like it’s from an ancient museum.”

Rosey gasped softly, taken aback, but before she could respond, Zara stepped closer close enough that Rosey could see the anger burning in her eyes.

“The next time you do that,” she said lowly, “you won’t like what I’ll do to you.”

Zara yanked her dress free and walked away, her head still high.

Behind her, Rosey clenched her fists. As she turned, she caught sight of Claire laughing quietly with another colleague. “What are you laughing at?” Rosey hissed. Claire shook her head, still amused, and walked off.

“You’ll pay for this, little Zara,” Rosey muttered under her breath.

When Zara returned to the ballroom, Adrian was on stage giving his speech. She avoided looking at him entirely, pretending to focus on the waiter passing by with a tray of juices. She took a glass and sipped slowly, unaware that Rosey’s eyes were following her every move from across the room a wicked smile curving on her lips.

Moments later, Zara began to feel strange. Her stomach twisted; her vision blurred. The chatter around her turned into a dull hum. She barely made it to the restroom before the dizziness overwhelmed her.

Claire noticed her absence first. She searched through the crowd, asking quietly if anyone had seen Zara, but no one had. When the party ended, everyone assumed she had simply left early.

Adrian, however, wasn’t convinced. He’d been scanning the room since the music faded, waiting for a glimpse of her familiar silhouette. He wanted to offer her a ride home he couldn’t stand the idea of her walking alone at night. But she was nowhere to be found.

On his way out, he ran into Rosey.

“Has everyone left?” he asked.

“Yes,” she replied smoothly. “Even Zara. She was one of the first to leave.”

Adrian nodded slowly. “Alright. You can go too.”

“Sir,” she said, her tone hopeful, “how about I get a lift?”

He agreed, though the silence in the car was heavy. Rosey kept sneaking glances at him, searching for a spark that wasn’t there. Adrian’s focus was elsewhere somewhere between worry and instinct. Something felt wrong.

When he reached home, Isabella was waiting in the living room.

“Where’s Zara?” she asked immediately.

Adrian’s brows furrowed. “She’s not home?”

“No, I thought she was with you.”

That was all it took. His chest tightened. Zara wasn’t the type to disappear without a word. Within minutes, he was back in his car, driving through the quiet streets toward the office building.

Inside, the party lights had dimmed, and the air was thick with the scent of spilled champagne and fading perfume. He called her name softly as he checked each office. Nothing. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed something, a shadow, a faint movement near the corridor. He followed it until he reached the ladies’ restroom.

There she was.

Zara sat slumped against the wall, her dress wrinkled, her hair slightly undone. Her eyes fluttered open when he knelt beside her.

“Zara,” he breathed, relief and fear clashing in his voice. “What are you doing here?”

Her gaze met his, hazy and unfocused. “Good Lord,” he muttered, noticing the pallor in her face. “What did you drink?”

She let out a faint laugh, broken and bitter. “Why do you even care?” Her words were slurred but sharp. “Adrian Voss, always showing up right when I need you, huh?”

He reached out, but she flinched. “Don’t touch me,” she whispered. “One day you’re kind. The next you’re a monster. What do you take me for, Adrian?”

Her voice cracked, her eyes glassy. “I didn’t even want this marriage… but Selene left.” The tears came quietly, sliding down her cheeks. “And you'll never understand, because monsters don’t.”

Adrian froze, every word slicing through him.

Then, unexpectedly, she reached out and cupped his face. Her touch was trembling but gentle. “You look attractive, though,” she murmured with a faint, crooked smile. “They were right about that.”