Chapter 10

Filip was in a tough spot. Gathering his determination, he downed the shot of whiskey in front of him. Before he could breathe, another glass appeared. One shot led to another, and soon he was on his eighth.

Miserable from a previous cold, his headache had eased, only to return with a vengeance after consuming so much alcohol. He swayed unsteadily, feeling as if he might fall at any moment.

Filip's notoriously low alcohol tolerance was well known to Cynthia. Yet, she handled her liquor surprisingly well.

"There are two glasses left. Let me handle it," she said confidently, approaching the table as Filip put down his glass. To everyone's surprise, she picked up a glass, drained it, and then effortlessly finished the last one.

The crowd gasped. While drinking wasn't unusual for her, her grace was exceptional. Her delicate fingers made the wineglass seem like a work of art, adding elegance to the moment. With her head tilted back, a glimpse of her smooth neck—resembling a proud swan—was revealed. She sipped slowly, relaxed and poised, appearing to ignore Jonathan's taunts and enjoy a private celebration.

When Cynthia finally set down her glass, applause erupted. Her expression remained calm, but a slight blush heightened her vibrancy.

"Now that the drinks are finished, Mr. Bennett, I trust you're feeling better?" she said, her tone laced with meaning.

Jonathan's face remained impassive, perhaps even colder than before. After a long silence, the corners of his mouth barely twitched upward. "Mrs. and Mr. Yates truly are the definition of a loving couple," he said.

He then turned away, seemingly disinterested. The other guests quickly refilled their glasses, acting as if nothing had happened.

Cynthia helped Filip back to their seats. He felt terrible, his stomach churning. Struggling to stand, he said, "I need to use the restroom."

Cynthia sat lost in thought, her eyes drifting toward the main table. Suddenly, a chill—a glass of red wine—splashed across her.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" Shirley exclaimed, feigning innocence. "I was about to offer a toast and tripped over the carpet while passing you!"

Cynthia looked up, anger flashing in her eyes. Shirley had clearly acted deliberately. Cynthia had just commanded attention; now Shirley aimed to humiliate her.

After the spill, Shirley turned to Selena. "What should I do, Mom? I just ruined Cynthia's dress."

Selena glanced at Cynthia unconcernedly. "It's just a dress, sweetheart. She's taken so much from you since childhood; she won't care about one piece of clothing." With that, she took Shirley's arm and left.

As they left, Shirley shot Cynthia a smug look over her shoulder. Cynthia ignored her, staring at Selena's retreating back, feeling a stab of sadness. The betrayal from her parents hurt more than anything Filip or Lilian could inflict.

That night, three years prior, when the DNA test results arrived, Selena had slapped Cynthia hard—two stinging blows that echoed in her soul. "You're the child of that woman? How could I raise my enemy's daughter all these years? Just go away! Go to hell!" Selena had screamed.

Even after all this time, the memory still ached in Cynthia's chest.

The crowd whispered amongst themselves. Cynthia's complicated family situation was quickly spreading. Several girls who had recently added Cynthia on WhatsApp, overheard the conversation and approached.

"It's too much. That witch is doing this on purpose." "Seriously, Cynthia, is she really your sister? How can she be so mean?" "How can Mrs. Jones be so biased? Even if she's not your biological mother, they lived together for twenty years. Doesn't she have any feelings?"

"It's okay. I'll just go to the bathroom to clean up," Cynthia said calmly.

"You can't just clean that off. Yvette, go get Cynthia a fresh outfit," one girl suggested.

Yvette nodded. "Cynthia, follow me upstairs. I'll find you something to change into."

Cynthia looked up at Yvette, the red-haired girl who had been beside Susanna during the gift-giving. Yvette, unlike the other girls in their fancy gowns, wore a simple orange tank top and deep blue jeans—casual yet stylish.

"I'd appreciate it, Ms. Bennett," Cynthia said with a grateful smile. She found herself liking Yvette. Besides, her dress was soaked, and the wine stains were prominent.

Yvette led Cynthia to the side elevator. As they walked down the long corridor, Cynthia glimpsed the banquet hall below. She looked for Jonathan at the main table but he was gone.

Yvette opened a door. "Just wait here a moment. I'll grab some clothes for you."

Cynthia nodded and entered. Soon, Yvette returned with a yellow tank top and a pair of deep blue wide-leg jeans.

"I just got back from Énmeria, so this is all I have—sorry, no evening dress," Yvette said apologetically.

Cynthia smiled. "This is perfect. Thank you, Ms. Bennett."

Yvette grinned. "I'll step out now. Come down when you're ready. Don't worry, this room is usually empty, and the door has a fingerprint lock, so no one else can get in." She left and closed the door.

Cynthia closed the curtains and began to undress. Just as she was halfway through, she heard a noise at the door. To her horror, it swung open.

Instinctively, she grabbed her partially removed dress to cover herself and turned, her panicked eyes meeting Jonathan's cold gaze.

Surprise flickered across Jonathan's face before hardening. He entered the room, closed the door, and faced Cynthia.

"Mr. Bennett?" Cynthia felt relieved.

Jonathan stared at her, his voice flat. "What are you doing here?"

Cynthia explained, "My dress was stained with red wine. Ms. Bennett offered me something to wear."

Jonathan raised an eyebrow, his tone incredulous. "Do you not realize this is my room?"