"I was the accused. But who really held the guilt?"
I felt strong hands grasp my arms. I looked to Kieran one last time, a silent plea in my eyes.
He didn't move. My stomach plummeted. I was alone. The security guards began to drag me toward the door, away from the glittering crowd that now saw me as a common criminal.
Kendella's voice, sharp with triumph, cut through the murmurs. "I told you she was a thief! Look at her clothes—she can't afford anything here! She came here to steal!"
"Let. Her. Go." Kieran said, and the security guards did.
"We'll get to the bottom of this," he said, his low voice somehow commanding the entire room to silence. He turned to an attendant. "Pull up the ballroom security feed. Now. Project it onto the main screen."
Kendella gasped, a genuine sound of shock that made my head snap toward her.
CCTV?
My heart flared with a sudden, desperate hope. She had forgotten. In her theatrical confidence, she'd forgotten that in a house like this, every moment was watched.
The massive flat-screen television above the bar, moments ago displaying tasteful abstract art, flickered to life with a grid of black and white security angles. A security tech quickly isolated the camera feed pointed directly at the investor cluster where I'd been standing.
"Run the footage from four minutes ago," Kieran commanded, his voice ice.
The room held its breath. The silence was absolute.
On the screen, we all watched a silent replay of the last few minutes. There I was, talking to an investor. Then Kendella approached. The video clearly showed her perfectly manicured hand reaching into my innocent, open clutch bag. It showed her withdrawing her own sparkling diamond necklace with a dramatic flourish.
Gasps echoed through the room. The murmurs turned into an uproar of shock and disgust—aimed not at me, but at the flawless heiress now exposed on screen.
Kieran's gaze slid to Kendella, sharp and lethal. "Let's see who's really smart, Kendella."
Kendella stood frozen, her face pale beneath her perfect makeup, staring at the screen in horror.
Then, a new presence entered the fray. The green-eyed woman I'd met before—Kendella's mother—stepped forward, her face a mask of pure, humiliated fury. She didn't hesitate. She lifted her hand and delivered a sharp, loud SLAP across Kendella's pale cheek.
The crack echoed in the stunned silence. Photographers, opportunistic vultures, captured the moment in a frenzy of flashes. This was going to be the headline. The shame was absolute, even if I was innocent of the theft.
The green-eyed woman immediately seemed to realize the optics of this situation. Her demeanor shifted violently. She rushed to me, clasping her hands together in a sudden, desperate apology.
"Oh, my dear, I am so sorry! Please forgive me, I thought... you... it's a mistake!" she babbled, her pride shattering in real-time. She tried to take my hands.
I pulled them away gently. "No, my elders aren't supposed to do this," I said quietly, my voice trembling but firm. "It's fine, ma'am. I made a mistake coming here anyways."
I turned around, pivoted, and walked back toward Kieran, my hands trembling. "So… you actually brought me here to make me look foolish," I said, voice low but sharp, each word cutting through the room. "To make me… a spectacle. Because someone like me—you think I'm beneath you."
Kieran froze. His calm mask faltered for just a moment, a shadow of confusion crossing his sharp features. He opened his mouth, but no words came.
"I'm not in your world," I continued, swallowing the lump in my throat, "and I never will be. But that doesn't give you the right to disrespect me. I quit. From today… I'm no longer your assistant. I don't want to see your face again."
His lips curved ever so slightly, a hint of amusement—or maybe calculation—ghosting across his face. "We'll see about that," he said
Then, finally, I stepped away.
I didn't look back at Kieran. I was glad when he didn't stop me.
By the time I stepped out, it had already begun to drizzle. A cold dampness seeped through my thin dress as I walked through the city.
The enormous digital billboards that lined the streets, usually scrolling through stock prices and luxury ads, suddenly switched to breaking news feeds. The moment—the slap, the arrest, the CCTV footage—was already playing on loop across a dozen screens. People on the pavement stopped and stared at me as I walked past. I bent my head down in shame, wanting only the anonymity of the busy street.
I refused to enter a taxi. The cash I had left, I would rather use it to get something for Adrien. I needed to trek, to walk off the adrenaline and the humiliation.
My phone rang. It was Jason. I answered, assuming he had already seen the news alerts splashed across the city.His voice was low and shaky. "Auri, where are you? It's Adrian. He—he collapsed."