Chapter 3

Lynn's POV

The gala was held at New York's largest hotel.

I wore a last-season dress Preston had carelessly thrown at me, following three steps behind him.

Like a shadow that couldn't see the light.

Vivienne wore a custom white mermaid gown, looking like a noble princess surrounded by admirers.

When she saw Preston, her eyes lit up. She lifted her skirt and ran over, naturally linking her arm through his.

"Preston, you're finally here. I've been waiting forever."

Preston's usually hard features softened the moment he saw her.

"Traffic."

He lied.

We'd arrived early. He'd just sat in the car smoking two cigarettes before leisurely coming up.

Vivienne smiled sweetly, her gaze sweeping around before she seemed to notice me for the first time, covering her mouth in surprise.

"Oh my, Ms. Lynn is here too? This dress... isn't this from two years ago? Preston, really, you should have gotten her something new."

Her words sounded reproachful, but her eyes were full of smugness and contempt.

People around us cast meaningful glances.

Some mocking, some pitying, most just watching the show.

Preston gave me a brief glance, his tone casual.

"She doesn't like being extravagant. Old clothes work fine."

I lowered my eyes, my nails digging into my palms.

Doesn't like being extravagant?

Before the Lynn family went bankrupt, I only wore haute couture.

Who was it that broke my wings and ground me into the dirt, only to turn around and despise me for being covered in mud?

"Vivienne, didn't you say you wanted champagne?"

Preston turned to look at Vivienne, his tone gentle.

Vivienne pouted playfully.

"But the champagne here isn't cold enough. I want the kind with hand-carved ice balls, and only seven-tenths full."

Preston nodded, then turned his gaze to me, instantly freezing over.

"You heard that? Go do it."

I stood there, surrounded by stares that felt like needles piercing my skin.

I was Mrs. Kingsley, yet at this event, I was being treated like a server, fetching drinks for the other woman.

"What? Don't want to?"

Preston raised an eyebrow, lowering his voice.

"That three hundred thousand..."

"I'll go."

I cut him off and turned toward the bar.

In that moment, I felt every shred of my dignity being crushed.

The ice was hard, the carving pick slippery.

My hands were shaking, and the dropping sensation in my abdomen grew stronger.

The sharp ice pick slipped and stabbed hard into my left index finger.

Blood immediately gushed out.

I frantically looked for tissues to stop the bleeding.

Behind me came Vivienne's sweet voice.

"Oh my, Ms. Lynn, how careless can you be? You got blood on the ice-how can anyone drink this now?"

Preston walked over. Seeing my bleeding finger, he frowned deeply.

But his first words weren't concern.

They were blame.

"Can't even handle something this simple. Clumsy idiot. Stop embarrassing yourself here."

He took Vivienne's hand.

"Come on, I'll take you upstairs for better drinks."

The two walked away arm in arm, leaving me alone by the bar, my blood dripping onto the floor.

Just like my heart, riddled with holes.