Chapter 88 The Ballroom Fracture
CHAPTER EIGHTY EIGHT
Valenticia’s POV~
I entered the grand ballroom late.
The hotel entrance was filled with guests all dressed in beautiful dresses and smart suits, all moving inside under the glare of floodlights. I entered wearing a plain black dress that fell to my knees, low heels and a light wrap over my shoulders. Nothing flashy, just enough to keep up without drawing attention.
I had my hair pulled back in a loose bun and a small clutch with my phone and keys. As I entered through the doors, a doorman nodded and offered me a program for the evening.
The ballroom lay out before me, enormous and crowded, people murmuring in herds. Chandeliers dangled from the ceiling high overhead, covering everything in a soft glow. The floor sparkled as if it had been waxed that morning, and round tables filled the room’s perimeter with white tablecloths and centerpieces of fresh flowers.
A band played low music in a corner of the room, while the waiters moved around with trays offering drinks and small bites. Laughter wafted in the air, along with the clink of glasses. I looked around the room, to the sides where no one would notice me immediately. My heart was pounding more than I would have liked! Why had I come? To see for myself, I guessed. To finally put the door on all the wondering.
I snatched a glass of sparkling water off a passing tray and made my way to a high window, pretending to check the program while scanning the room. People hugged and delivered fast updates on corporate deals. I met a handful of faces in the meetings, suppliers, executives, and that single lawyer who insisted on picking at every contract. But I wasn't here for them. My eyes kept sliding, drawn toward the center of the room where the energy felt strongest. And then I saw him. Stefan. He was dressed in a black suit with a straight tie and neat hair, as always. He seemed comfortable, like he belonged there, shaking hands and laughing at jokes.
By his side was Natasha.
She was in a red dress, catching the light with her dark hair spilling over one shoulder. She looked up at him with a smile, her hand resting lightly on his arm as they conversed. They were close to each other, facing off as though nothing else in the room existed.
A cluster of people pressed in around them, Helix partners, I assumed, chuckling at something Stefan said. Natasha laughed, too, and flung back her head to do so, snatching at his sleeve. It felt natural and easy between them. Like they fit without trying.
I grabbed the glass more firmly. I took a sip of water, and it tasted flat. I wanted to look away, slip out before they saw me. But my feet stayed planted. I stood watching as the band moved into a slow song, one of them with strings and a soft rhythm. Stefan said something to the crowd and then turned to Natasha. He reached his hand out, palm up. "Dance?" he said, loud enough that I overheard it through the music where I was standing.
She nodded, her smile widening. "I'd love to." She took his hand, and he pulled her out onto the dance floor in the middle of all those assembled. Other couples came to join them, but Stefan and Natasha strolled up where they found a space within earshot of the band. He placed one hand on her waist and held her other hand in his. She placed her fingers on his shoulder. The music rose, filling the room, and they began to dance.
They knew how to dance, matched steps, as practiced. Stefan danced her in graceful circles, watching her face the entire time. Without missing a beat, Natasha followed along, her dress twirling ever so slightly with each turn. They were talking while they walked, murmurs I couldn’t hear, but her laughter floated above the music once more. He said something that had her leaning in closer to him, and she nodded, smiling. It appeared easy, like they’d done it before. As if they belonged together on that floor.
My chest contracted right then, a feeling of pain that extended to my throat. I put the glass on a nearby table. I was shaking. Anger came to the surface first, hot and fast. How could he just stand there like that, after all? After the invitations, and the looks, and the way he played it like there was still something between us? And the hurt came right along after that, harder than I anticipated. I’d thought I packed it all away months ago with the end of our contract marriage. But as I watched it again today, everything came flooding back anew.
I thought of the first time Stefan and I danced, it was in the madness, a little party in a safehouse basement. Nothing as fancy as this, just a radio blasting old songs while we hid from drones outside. He had stood me up from a chair, unsure at first, and we danced in the near-darkness. His hand was warm on my back, and we laughed when I stepped on his shoe.
That contract between us began as a shield, a way to protect ourselves from Gregor’s hands. But sometimes amid the late nights and close calls, it became real. He was mine in those hours, murmurs through the dark, shared schemes over cold coffee, his arm around when fear set in. We made something out of it, anyway, despite the terms on paper. Or at least, that’s what I had thought.
This time, it was Natasha's hand he held and her fingers that were laced through his as they turned on the floor. Natasha is next to him at dinners and events, her laughter filling the gap where mine once was. The vision hit me harder than I had anticipated, as if to remind me that time marched on without my moving with it. Had he really felt this with her all the time? As I rebuild Clawford and told myself that the reason why I didn't need company was that I'm okay on my own. My eyes burned, and I blinked forcefully.
No.
I didn’t want to cry here, not in front of strangers who would gossip about the Clawford heir losing cool.
I turned sharply, my wrap slipping off one shoulder as I pushed into the crowd. People stepped aside, murmuring apologies, but I barely heard them. I kept my head down, eyes on the floor to hide the sting building behind them. A man tried to greet me, "Valenticia, great to see you," but I nodded once and kept moving, weaving past tables and groups. The music followed me, that slow melody fading a little with each step. Laughter from the dance floor echoed, but it felt distant now.
I reached the edge of the room and slipped through a side door into a quiet hallway. The cool air hit my face, and I leaned against the wall for a second, breathing deep. My hands clenched at my sides. Why did it hurt this much? I had said no to him over and over, built walls to keep him out. But seeing him with her made it real, that chapter closed, maybe for good.
Had I lost Stefan completely? Or was this just the start of something deeper, a pain that would linger and force me to face what I really wanted?