Estelle’s POV
I turned to see Vivian approaching, her red hair perfectly styled despite the evening’s activities. Her mask was elaborate—gold and crimson with actual feathers—and probably cost more than so people’s monthly salaries.
Not wanting to deal with another confrontation, I turned to leave.
“Don’t you dare walk away from ,” Vivian snapped, catching my elbow with surprising strength.
I looked down at her grip on my arm, then back up at her face. “Let go.”
“I heard sothing very interesting just now,” she said, ignoring my request entirely. “About your room arrangents.”
“What of it?” I knew exactly what she was talking about, but I wasn’t going to point it out myself.
“Zayne Silvius was the one who personally rearranged your accommodations, wasn’t he?” Vivian’s eyes glittered with malicious curiosity behind her mask. “Not so staff mber making corrections.”
I kept my expression neutral. “And?”
“What’s the relationship between you and Zayne?” she demanded, her voice rising slightly. “First you’re conveniently assigned to his private wing, and now—”
“That’s none of your business,” I cut her off firmly.
I tried to pull my arm free, but Vivian’s grip tightened. Her perfectly manicured nails dug into the silk of my dress.
“Everything involving Zayne Silvius is my business,” she hissed. “He’s supposed to—”
“He’s supposed to what?” I asked coldly. “Belong to you? Answer to you? Follow your orders?”
Vivian’s face flushed red behind her ornate mask. “You don’t understand. You can’t just—”
I yanked my arm free with enough force to make her stumble slightly. “I can do whatever I want. You have no authority over or anyone else here.”
I turned to leave, taking three quick steps toward the main crowd where her dramatics would be more noticeable and therefore more contained.
Suddenly, I felt sothing tug at my dress, followed by the sound of ripping fabric. I froze.
The sound echoed through the imdiate area, loud enough to draw attention from nearby conversations. I felt a sudden cool breeze against my thighs and realized with dawning horror what had happened.
Vivian had stepped on my dress train.
The navy silk had torn from the back hem nearly to my hip, leaving a gaping hole that exposed far more leg than was appropriate for a formal event.
I stood frozen for a mont, feeling dozens of eyes turning toward us. The conversations around us died as people noticed the commotion.
Slowly, I turned back to face Vivian.
She stood there with a satisfied smirk, her heel still planted firmly on the torn fabric of my dress. Her eyes sparkled with malicious triumph behind her feathered mask.
“Oops,” she said sweetly, making no attempt to sound sincere. “How clumsy of .”
The rage that built up inside was unlike anything I’d felt since learning about Asher’s betrayal. This wasn’t just embarrassnt or inconvenience. This was deliberate sabotage in front of dozens of pack leaders and their representatives.
“Get off my dress,” I said quietly, my voice carrying deadly calm.
“I don’t think I heard you properly,” Vivian replied, pressing her heel down harder. The silk made another soft tearing sound.
More people were gathering now. I could hear whispers starting up around us and feel the weight of curious stares. This was exactly what Vivian wanted—a public spectacle that would humiliate .
“I said,” I repeated, taking a step closer to her despite the restriction of my trapped dress, “get off my dress.”
Vivian’s smirk faltered slightly at my tone, but she held her ground. “Make .”
So I did.
I placed both hands on her shoulders and shoved her backward with controlled force. With several glasses of wine affecting her stability, Vivian stumbled backward. Her eyes went wide with surprise as she windmilled her arms, trying to regain her footing.
She fell backward onto the marble floor with a loud thud, her elaborate gown spreading around her like spilled paint. Her feathered mask tilted askew, revealing her shocked expression.
The ballroom erupted into chaos.
“Oh my god!”
“Is she hurt?”
“What happened?”
“Did you see that?”
“Soone get help!”
Several people rushed forward to assist Vivian, who was struggling to sit up while maintaining so dignity. Her face was bright red now, whether from embarrassnt, anger, or the wine, I couldn’t tell.
Before I could process what to do next, soone draped a jacket around my waist. The familiar cologne on the fabric told it was Caleb before I even looked up.
“Are you alright?” he asked quietly, positioning himself so his jacket covered the torn portion of my dress.
“I’m fine,” I said, though my heart was racing.
Vivian had managed to get back on her feet with help from two concerned bystanders. Her hair was disheveled now, and there was a small tear in her red dress where it had caught on her heel.
“She pushed !” Vivian declared loudly, pointing an accusing finger at . “You all saw it! She assaulted !”
“You stepped on her dress,” Caleb replied calmly, his voice carrying easily through the crowd. “You damaged her property deliberately.”
“That was an accident!” Vivian protested.
“An accident?” Caleb’s tone turned skeptical. “You an you accidentally placed your heel on her dress train and then accidentally refused to move when she asked you to?”
Murmurs rippled through the gathered crowd. I could see people exchanging glances, trying to piece together what had really happened.
“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” Vivian snapped. “You weren’t even here when it started!”
“I saw enough,” Caleb replied firmly. “You deliberately stepped on Luna Estelle’s dress, and when she tried to free herself, you refused to move. She only pushed you because your heel was wedged in her dress.”
“Luna Estelle rely defended herself,” he continued, his voice carrying authority. “And frankly, I’m surprised you toppled over so easily. Perhaps you should reconsider how much wine you consu at formal events.”
User Comments
0 comments from readers