The gallery is too bright tonight—glittering with chandeliers, champagne flutes, and conversations that sound like they’ve been rehearsed. Ella slips through the crowd like a ghost, still dazed from Richard’s revelation, her nerves humming with aftershocks she can’t shake.
She’s not supposed to be here, not emotionally. But it’s a mandatory event for the new exhibition, and the last thing she wants is to give anyone more reason to look at her.
Especially him.
She pushes the thought away.
People move around her in clusters of perfume and polished jewelry, all soft laughter and clinking glass. She focuses on breathing evenly, reminding herself that she’s invisible here.
She almost makes it across the room before a sugary voice slices through the air.
“Well, well. If it isn’t the gallery’s little charity case.”
Ella freezes.
Courtney stands near the center of a small circle of guests, wearing a champagne-colored dress that matches her smug expression. Her smile stretches, wide and sweet, dripping with venom. Her friends tilt in closer, ready for a show.
Ella’s heart thuds. “Courtney,” she manages, keeping her voice level.
“Oh, don’t look so startled.” Courtney lifts her glass, the diamonds in her bracelet catching the light. “I’m just surprised you showed up. I thought you’d be too busy… I don’t know—repaying favors?”
The words drop like ice into the room. Conversations nearby soften, then hush entirely. A few heads turn.
Ella’s breath catches at the implication, at how quickly Courtney has aimed for the jugular.
“I don’t know what you mean,” Ella says quietly.
“Oh, come on.” Courtney laughs, nudging the woman beside her. “Do we all have to pretend we don’t know why you’re here? Why you have this job? Why Julian Hayes is always—always—hovering around you like you’re some kind of pet project?”
Ella’s stomach lurches. The room tilts. Heat crawls up her neck.
People are staring now.
Courtney steps closer, voice dropping into a mockery of sympathy. “Don’t be embarrassed. Lots of girls trade something for opportunity. At least you picked someone rich.”
A few guests gasp softly. One woman mutters, “God.”
Ella feels her pulse hammer in her throat. Anger flickers—but shame rises faster, hotter, tightening her chest until she can barely inhale.
“That’s not what happened,” she whispers.
“Oh?” Courtney arches an eyebrow. “Then enlighten us. Because rumors don’t start themselves. And Julian has a reputation for collecting things he thinks are…cute.”
The crowd shifts, hungry, uncomfortable, intrigued. A perfect audience.
Ella grips her clutch so tightly her knuckles ache.
“Stop,” she says, a tremor in her voice she hates.
Courtney smirks, satisfied. “If you don’t like the truth, darling, maybe you shouldn’t put yourself in situations that—”
“Courtney.”
The single word cracks through the tension like a whip. Richard has appeared beside Ella, his expression cold in a way she’s never seen. Several people recoil instinctively.
Courtney’s confidence flickers.
“What you’re doing is inappropriate,” Richard says, voice low and controlled. “And if you’re finished humiliating yourself, I suggest you step away.”
Courtney’s cheeks flame red, but she masks it quickly with a scoff. “I’m only saying what everyone else is thinking.”
“No,” Richard fires back, “you’re saying what you wish were true.”
The crowd murmurs, suddenly disinterested in taking Courtney’s side now that authority has spoken. She stiffens, jaw clenching.
Then she tosses her hair, forcing a laugh. “Whatever. Some people can’t take a joke.”
She retreats, her entourage trailing behind her like wilted petals.
Ella stands frozen, humiliated and exposed, the air too thick to breathe. Richard touches her arm gently.
“Don’t listen to her,” he says. “Courtney thrives on cruelty. She always has.”
Ella nods, but she can’t speak. The shame lingers like a bruise, pulsing under her skin.
Because the worst part isn’t what Courtney said.
It’s that, deep down, Ella fears the room believed her.
And maybe…a piece of Ella did, too.