Chapter 4

The birthday party was held at a top-tier private club in Mayfair.

To impress Emma, Harry had clearly spent money far beyond his means.

He had booked the entire penthouse banquet hall and hired a renowned London string quartet to play live.

With his salary, he couldn't even afford half the minimum spend here.

At 7:00 PM, I didn't follow Harry's orders to go to some fast-fashion store for a discount dress.

Instead, I went straight to the Sinclair family's private hub in Knightsbridge.

Inside the luxurious penthouse VIP suite, my personal attendant, Chloe, was already waiting with a top-tier styling team.

"Welcome home, Miss Selena."

Chloe respectfully took my coat, unable to hide the absolute thrill in her eyes.

"You've finally decided to end this 'ordinary life' experience."

"If the Chairman knew you were willing to use family resources tonight, he would be overjoyed."

I looked at the row of seasonal haute couture gowns lined up before me, the corner of my lips curling up.

"Yes. The game is over."

"It's about time I showed them what 'dressing decently' actually means."

Two hours later, I stood in front of the full-length mirror.

The meek, plain girl I had deliberately played for five years was dead. The woman standing here now was a legendary blade finally drawn from its sheath.

I chose a deep-sea blue gradient haute couture gown. The only one of its kind in the world.

Around my slender neck rested the "Eye of the Deep"—a blindingly brilliant sapphire necklace that had once sparked a bidding war among European royalty.

What I was wearing tonight was worth enough to buy Harry's company ten times over.

At 9:00 PM, I arrived at the club in the family's armored black Rolls-Royce Phantom.

When I pushed open the heavy, ornate wooden doors of the banquet hall, the noisy room fell into a dead, sudden silence.

Every single pair of eyes snapped toward me.

In the center of the crowd, Harry was holding a glass of champagne, eagerly orbiting the woman beside him.

The birthday girl. Emma.

The moment Harry saw me, his champagne glass jerked violently.

His eyes went wide. For a split second, there was raw, naked awe in his gaze.

But that awe instantly curdled into offended rage.

He marched over, grabbed my wrist, and tried to drag me into a corner.

"Are you out of your damn mind?!" he hissed through gritted teeth. "I told you to buy a dress, not rent some cheap knockoff!"

"Do you have any idea who is here tonight? If they realize you're wearing counterfeits, where am I supposed to put my face?!"

I stared coldly at his twisted, furious face—a face contorted by his own pathetic insecurities—and violently ripped my hand out of his grip.

"Don't touch me. You're filthy."

Without hiding my disgust, I pulled a silk handkerchief from my clutch and wiped the exact spot on my wrist he had just touched.

Harry froze.

For five years, I had been gentle and submissive. He had never seen this side of me.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Humiliated, Harry reached out to grab me again.

Right then, Emma sauntered over, swaying her hips, a champagne flute in hand.

"Harry, why are you so angry?"

She intimately hooked her arm through his, then looked me up and down, her eyes dripping with critical disdain.

"Selena, you didn't have to rent a fake just to compete with me." Emma covered her mouth and let out a sickeningly sweet laugh.

"I saw the real one in Vogue yesterday. It's not even available to the public."

"Yours is a decent knockoff, I guess, but those rhinestones look incredibly cheap."

"And that giant piece of blue glass around your neck? A bit desperate, don't you think?"

Harry's frat-boy friends immediately burst into laughter.

"Seriously. If you're broke, just be broke. Why pretend to be some billionaire heiress?"

"Harry, your girlfriend's vanity is out of control. Fake luxury from head to toe?"

The mockery grew louder. Harry's face darkened to a thunderous scowl.

Feeling his ego trampled on, he pointed a finger at my face and barked a command.

"Apologize to Emma. Now. Then get the hell out of here and take off that embarrassing trash."

I looked at the two of them, performing their little duet, and couldn't help but laugh out loud.

"Apologize? Why? Because she's blind, or because you're stupid?"

My voice wasn't loud, but it instantly silenced the entire banquet hall.

"You—!!!" Harry roared in fury, raising his hand to slap me.

I didn't even flinch. I just pinned him with a freezing glare.

Just as his hand was about to come down, the banquet hall doors were violently shoved open from the outside.

Several intimidating bodyguards stormed in, flanking the entrance.

Then, an elderly British gentleman in a perfectly tailored tailcoat stepped through the doors.

The club owner, who had been standing nearby watching the drama, turned pale. He practically sprinted forward.

"Mr. Charles! To what do we owe the honor?!"

The name "Charles" was known to everyone in London's highest aristocratic circles. He was the chief butler of a financial dynasty rumored to control half the British economy.

Harry and Emma froze. At their level, they didn't even have the right to breathe the same air as Charles.

Emma immediately plastered on her sweetest smile, preparing to step forward and greet him.

But Charles didn't even glance at her. He walked straight through the parted crowd and stopped right in front of me.

Under the shocked gaze of the entire room, he bowed deeply.

"Miss Selena."