Chapter 5: The Cold Smile

The next day, I was ready. The words kept looping in my head like a prayer.

I must destroy Seraphina. No one messes with me and walks away.

I showered, dressed, and headed out. The morning air felt different. Sharper. Like the world knew something was about to shift.

That's when I saw it. A sleek storefront halfway down the block. The sign read "Vivienne Beauty Hub" in elegant gold letters.

I stopped. Stared at my reflection in the glass. If I was going to do this, I needed to look the part.

I pushed the door open. The bell chimed.

A woman glanced up from behind the counter, her eyes sweeping over me once. She smiled, slow and knowing.

"Looking for a transformation?"

I met her gaze. "Something like that.”

The stylist's name was Vivienne and she looked at me like I was a project.

Not a person. A project.

"We need to change everything," she said, circling me in her studio. "The hair. The posture. The way you hold your shoulders like you're apologizing for taking up space."

"I don't..."

"You do." She stopped in front of me. "You walk into rooms hoping people won't notice you. We're going to make you impossible to ignore."

For two weeks, I became someone else.

Vivienne taught me how to stand. Chin up. Spine straight. Eyes forward like I owned every room I entered.

A voice coach named Richard made me practice speaking from my diaphragm. Lower. Steadier. No more trailing off at the end of sentences like I was asking permission to exist.

"Say it again," he commanded. "I will not be silenced."

"I will not be silenced."

"Louder."

"I will not be silenced."

"Like you mean it."

"I will not be silenced."

Marcus watched from the corner, taking notes on his phone. He barely spoke during these sessions. Just observed. Calculated. Planned.

"The gala is in three days," he said one afternoon. "Are you ready?"

I looked at myself in the mirror. New haircut. Sharper. More severe. Makeup that made my eyes look like weapons.

"I'm ready."

"Good." He handed me a garment bag. "Wear this. Arrive at nine thirty. Not a minute earlier."

"Why nine thirty?"

"Because everyone else will already be there. You'll make an entrance. Entrances matter."

...

December twenty seventh arrived cold and clear.

I stood in my apartment, zipping up the dress Vivienne had chosen. Midnight blue silk that fit like a second skin. No jewelry except small diamond studs. Hair pulled back severe and elegant.

I looked like someone who could start wars.

My phone buzzed. Aiden.

Please tell me you're coming tonight. We need to talk. I miss you.

I stared at the message. Didn't reply. Turned my phone to silent and dropped it in my clutch.

The car Marcus sent was black and sleek and anonymous. The driver didn't speak. Just drove through Manhattan while I watched the city lights blur past.

When we pulled up to the venue, cameras were everywhere.

The Annual Aiden Crestfall Inc. Charity Gala. Black tie. A list only. The kind of event that determined who mattered in New York society.

I stepped out of the car at exactly nine thirty.

Flashbulbs exploded.

"Elara, over here."

"Elara, are you still engaged?"

"Elara, what do you think about Seraphina's interview?"

I smiled. Didn't answer. Walked up the red carpet like I was floating.

Inside, the ballroom glittered. Crystal chandeliers. Ice sculptures. Waiters circulating with champagne that probably cost more than my monthly rent.

And there, holding court near the bar, was Seraphina.

She wore white. Of course she wore white. Angelic. Innocent. Her blonde hair cascaded in perfect waves. She laughed at something a older man said, touching his arm lightly.

Then she saw me.

Her smile froze. Just for a second. Then it widened, became something bright and dangerous.

She excused herself and glided toward me.

"Elara." Her voice was honey. "What a surprise. I wasn't sure you'd come."

"Why wouldn't I?"

"Well, after everything..." She let the sentence hang. "I just thought it might be difficult. Seeing Aiden. Being here."

"I'm exactly where I should be."

Her eyes narrowed slightly. "That's a beautiful dress. New?"

"Yes."

"It's very... bold. Different from your usual style." She tilted her head. "Trying something new?"

"Embracing who I've always been."

A small laugh escaped her lips. "How philosophical. I love that for you."

People were watching us. I could feel their eyes. Their phones angled just slightly in our direction.

"How are you feeling?" I asked. "After your collapse. That must have been terrifying."

"Oh, you know." She waved her hand dismissively. "Panic attacks are no joke. But I'm stronger now. Aiden was such a help during recovery. He checked on me every day. So thoughtful."

Every day.

The words landed like a punch.

"He has a good heart," she continued. "Always has. Even when we were younger... he was the one who'd drop everything to help someone in need. Remember that about him, won't you? When things get complicated."

"Things aren't complicated. They're very clear."

"Are they?" Her smile sharpened. "Because from where I'm standing, nothing about this situation is clear at all."

A waiter passed. She plucked a champagne flute from his tray. Took a delicate sip.

"Enjoy the gala, Elara. I'm sure it will be memorable."

She walked away, her white dress trailing behind her like a wedding gown.

I stood there, fists clenched, breathing through the rage.

"Steady." Marcus appeared at my elbow. "Don't let her see you rattled."

"She told me Aiden's been checking on her. Every day."

"Probably a lie."

"What if it's not?"

"Then we expose her tonight and none of it matters." He glanced at his watch. "The VIP lounge. Ten minutes. Everything's set."

...

The VIP lounge was on the second floor. Private. Exclusive. Only the most important donors and investors allowed.

Marcus had arranged for a private screening. The security footage showing Seraphina rehearsing her collapse. The bank statements. The emails with Dr. Chen. All of it compiled into a fifteen minute presentation that would destroy her credibility.

Reporters were already gathering. The ones Marcus had carefully selected. The ones who'd run with the story.

I stood near the back, heart hammering.

This was it. The moment everything changed.

The lights dimmed. A screen descended from the ceiling.

And then Aiden walked in.

He scanned the room. Found me. His face went pale.

"Elara. What's happening? Marcus said there was an emergency investor meeting..."

"There is." I didn't look at him. Kept my eyes on the screen.

"What are you doing?"

"What you should have done. Telling the truth."

He grabbed my arm. Gentle but firm. "Please. Not like this. Can we talk? Just for five minutes?"

"We've talked. You lied."

"I didn't lie. I just... I couldn't tell you everything because..."

"Because what? Because it would make you look bad? Because you'd have to choose?"

"Because it's complicated." His voice dropped. "Seraphina's fragile. If you do this... if you humiliate her publicly... she could..."

"Could what? Fake another collapse? Stage another emergency?"

"She's not faking." He looked desperate. "The doctors confirmed. The tox screen. The chemicals. It was real."

"Real chemicals she put in her own system."

"You don't know that."

"I know enough."

The screen flickered to life. Marcus stood at the front, remote in hand.

"Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for joining us. What you're about to see will clarify several questions about recent events..."

"Elara, please." Aiden's voice cracked. "Don't do this. Think about the company. Think about the investors. Think about..."

"Think about me?" I finally looked at him. "When exactly was I supposed to start mattering in this equation?"

His mouth opened. Closed. No words came.

Marcus pressed play.

The screen lit up. Security footage. Timestamp visible. The Crystal Ballroom service entrance.

And then...

Everything went black.

Not just the screen. The entire room. Lights. Emergency exit signs. Everything.

Gasps. Confused murmurs. Someone's phone flashlight clicked on.

"What's happening?" a woman asked.

"Power outage," someone else said.

But this wasn't a power outage. This was deliberate.

I felt it in my bones.

Footsteps. Heels clicking across the floor. Fast. Purposeful.

Then... a laugh. Low. Familiar.

The emergency power kicked in. Dim red lights flooded the room.

The screen flickered back to life.

But it wasn't showing Seraphina's rehearsed collapse.

It was showing a photograph.

Me and Aiden. Standing close. Too close. His hand on my face. My eyes closed. His lips near my ear.

The timestamp in the corner read two months earlier. Late night. The Gramercy Hotel.

Gasps around the room. Cameras lifting. Phones recording.

"Oh my God..."

"Is that..."

"Two months before the engagement..."

I stared at the screen. My blood turned to ice.

That photo. That moment. I remembered it.

We'd gone to the hotel bar after a charity event. We'd argued about wedding venues. He'd been frustrated. I'd been crying. He'd pulled me close and whispered that everything would be okay.

It had been innocent.

But the photo made it look like something else entirely.

Like a secret. Like an affair. Like proof that I was the problem all along.

……

The lights came back on and the screen that should have played Seraphina's rehearsed collapse instead showed something else entirely.

A video.

Not a photo. A video.

And it was me.

Younger. Different hair. Different clothes. Laughing at something off camera.

My stomach dropped to my feet.

No. No no no no.

I knew this video. I remembered when it happened.

Seven years ago. Before Aiden. Before any of this. When I was just a girl working at a bookstore and trying to figure out my life.

James.

My old friend James. We'd been close. Really close. People thought we were dating but we weren't. We were just... comfortable with each other. Too comfortable maybe.

One night we'd gone out. Had too much to drink. He'd recorded us being stupid. Being reckless. We'd posted it on T*****r because back then we thought everything was funny. Back then I didn't know that the internet never forgets.

On the screen, James leaned closer to me. His face inches from mine. Almost kissing. His hand moved up. Touched my waist. Then higher.

I felt the blood drain from my face.

No.

His hand was on my breast. Touching. Squeezing gently while I laughed like it was nothing. Like we did this all the time.

We didn't. It was just that one stupid night. One stupid moment that I'd buried deep and tried to forget.

Gasps filled the room.

"Oh my God..."

"Is she drunk?"

"Who is that guy?"

The video kept playing. James pushed me against a wall. His hands on my hips. My arms around his neck. His mouth near my ear said something I couldn't hear anymore because my ears were ringing too loud.

His hands moved lower. Grabbed my thighs. Started pushing up my skirt.

I remembered this part. I remembered feeling dizzy. Feeling like things were moving too fast.

On screen, James was guiding me toward a door. A hotel room door. He pushed it open. Pushed me inside. My back hit the wall hard.

His hands went to my pants. Started unbuttoning.

And then the video stopped.

I froze on that image. Me against the wall. Him with his hands on my waistband. Both of us looking like we were about to...

The screen went black.

Silence crashed down like a building collapsing.

Then the whispers exploded.

"Did they..."

"That's not Aiden..."

"When was this..."

"She's engaged and she..."

My whole body started shaking. Not just my hands. Everything. My knees. My jaw. My chest.

I couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. Couldn't process what just happened.

The sweat poured down my face now. Down my neck. Soaking through my expensive dress.

I intended to expose Seraphina.

Now everyone was seeing my shame. My past. The worst moment of my life playing on a giant screen for all of New York's elite to witness.

Who did this?

My brain scrambled. Tried to make sense of it.

James? Could James have done this?

No. That made no sense. We'd stopped talking years ago. He'd moved to Paris. Last I heard he was engaged to some French woman. I had a good life. Why would he suddenly decide to destroy me now?

We weren't even friends anymore. I hadn't spoken in five years.

So who?

Who knew about that video? Who could have found it? Who would have switched Marcus's carefully prepared evidence with this nightmare from my past?

My eyes swept the room. All these faces staring at me. Judging. Recording. Sharing.

Then I found her.

Seraphina.

She stood perfectly still in the doorway. White dress glowing under the lights like she was some kind of angel.

But her face. Her face told a different story.

She was looking right at me.

And she was smiling.

Not a fake smile. Not a polite smile.

A real smile. Wide. Satisfied. Triumphant.

Like she'd just won the lottery. Like she'd just destroyed her worst enemy and was savoring every second of it.

Our eyes locked.

And I knew.

She did this. Somehow she found that video. Somehow she knew I was planning to expose her tonight and she turned it around. Made me the villain instead.

But how? How did she even know about James? About that night? About a stupid video from seven years ago that I'd buried so deep I'd almost forgotten it existed?

The room spun. My vision blurred.

I felt Marcus's hand on my arm. Tight. Too tight.

Something inside me snapped.

I whirled on him. Ripped my arm free.

"You." My voice came out raw. Broken. "You did this."

His face stayed calm. Too calm. "Elara, we need to..."

"You made me look like a fool." The words exploded out of me. Loud. Everyone could hear but I didn't care anymore. "You said you'd help me. You said we'd expose her. You said..."

"Lower your voice," he said quietly.

"No." I stepped closer. Right in his face. "You knew. You knew what would happen. You knew that video would play instead and you let me walk in here like an idiot."

"You're not thinking clearly..."

"I'm thinking perfectly clear." My hands were shaking so hard I had to clench them into fists. "You used me. You set me up. Why? What do you get out of destroying me?"

He didn't answer. Just stared at me with those cold eyes.

Behind me, I heard footsteps. Heels clicking on marble.

I turned.

Seraphina walked toward me slowly. Every step deliberate. Graceful. Like a cat approaching a wounded bird.

She stopped three feet away. Close enough to whisper. Far enough that the cameras couldn't hear.

"Did you really think you could win?" Her voice was soft. Sweet. Poisonous. "Did you really think you were smart enough to beat me?"

"You did this." My voice shook. "You switched the video."

"Did I?" She tilted her head. "Or did you do this to yourself? That was you in that video, wasn't it? Your choices. Your past. Your shame."

"How did you..."

"I know everything, Elara." She leaned closer. "Every secret. Every mistake. Every little thing you've tried to bury. And when you came for me tonight..." Her smile widened. "I simply reminded everyone who you really are."

My throat closed up. I couldn't speak. Couldn't move.

She reached out. Patted my cheek gently. Like I was a child who'd tried something cute and failed.

"Run along now," she whispered. "Before this gets any worse for you."

She turned. I walked away. Her white dress trailing behind her like a victory flag.

I stood there. Frozen. Drowning. Dying.

And from afar where she stood. She turned to me.

“I haven't even started with you.”