Chapter 6 - When We Crossed Paths Again

Marietta’s POV

The moment I stepped into the airport terminal, I felt it—the weight of a past I had long buried.

Three years had passed, yet the air in America still carried the scent of old betrayals. I had rehearsed this moment countless times, told myself I was ready. But nothing prepared me for the sharp sting of familiarity as the cold air kissed my skin.

I adjusted my sunglasses and tightened my grip on my suitcase. My plan was simple: get in, handle business, and leave with my dignity intact. No distractions. No emotions.

But fate had other plans.

I heard reporters calling my name—the one I had spent years rebuilding—spread like wildfire. Heads turned. Cameras flashed. Reporters swarmed toward me with recorders and microphones in hand.

I kept my expression neutral, offering the reporters a small, polite smile before walking past them. My driver, already waiting, quickly opened the car door, shielding me from the chaos.

I slid into the back seat and let out a quiet breath as the door shut. Silence. A temporary escape.

“Miss Marietta, should we head to the hotel?” the driver asked.

“No,” I said, removing my sunglasses. “Take me to Serenity Garden.”

If I was going to face my past, I needed to do it on my own terms.

AT THE SERENITY GARDEN

The event was grand, filled with the city’s elite. Crystal chandeliers shimmered from above, and soft classical music played in the background.

I moved through the crowd with effortless grace, accepting polite nods and whispered greetings. I had done well for myself. I wasn’t the naive girl they once knew—I was untouchable now. Back as the most popular and world bests actress.

Just then, my gaze landed on her.

Katty Whitmore.

Dressed in a stunning wine-red gown, she stood at the center of the room, basking in attention. She laughed at something a man whispered in her ear, her eyes twinkling with amusement.

I knew that laugh. The same one she used before stabbing me in the back.

The sight of her brought back memories I had tried to bury—her accusing voice echoing through the mansion, the look of triumph on her face as Michael turned against me, the pain of being thrown out like a stranger.

I could walk away now. I could avoid the drama, keep my distance.

But I didn’t come back to hide.

I picked up a glass of champagne from a passing waiter and took a slow sip, keeping my posture relaxed. Katty hadn’t noticed me yet, and I planned to keep it that way—for now.

Then, a voice I hadn’t heard in three years shattered my composure.

“Marietta?”

I froze.

That voice—deep, familiar, and laced with disbelief.

Slowly, I turned.

Michael.

He stood only a few feet away, his blue eyes locked onto mine. The world around us faded, leaving only the two of us in suffocating silence.

He looked… different. The years had hardened him. His jaw was sharper, his features more defined, and a shadow of exhaustion darkened his eyes. But what struck me most wasn’t how much he had changed—it was the way he was looking at me, like he had seen a ghost.

Good. Let him feel what I felt that night he turned his back on me.

His gaze swept over me—calculating, searching. I knew what he saw.

A woman he had underestimated.

A woman who had risen from the ashes of his betrayal.

His lips parted slightly, as if to say something. His fingers twitched at his side, as though he wanted to reach for me. But he didn’t.

Instead, she spoke first.

“Michael, who are you looking at?”

Katty.

Her voice was as sweet as ever, but when she turned to follow his gaze, the color drained from her face.

For the first time in years, she looked nervous.

I smirked.

Let the games begin.

A hush fell over the nearby guests, their gazes shifting between the three of us. I didn’t move, didn’t say a word—I didn’t need to. My presence alone had shattered whatever illusion they had built in my absence.

“Marietta,” Katty recovered quickly, forcing a bright smile. “I didn’t know you were back in town.”

“Oh, I suppose there are many things you don’t know,” I said, tilting my head.

Her smile faltered for a fraction of a second before she glanced at Michael, who hadn’t taken his eyes off me.

I turned my gaze back to Michael. “You look well,” I said smoothly. It was a lie.

He swallowed hard, his hands curling into fists. “Marietta…”

The way he said my name—it wasn’t anger. It wasn’t hatred.

It was something else. Regret.

Good. Regret was exactly what I wanted him to feel.

Before he could speak again, a voice came from the stage.

“Ladies and gentlemen, the event is about to begin.”

The moment broke, but the damage was done.

Katty was flustered.

Michael was speechless.

And I was exactly where I needed to be.

I took another slow sip of my champagne and walked away.

This was only the beginning.