Chapter 3: Public Humiliation

The security guard at the entrance checked John’s invitation card and stepped aside. “You’re welcome, sir,” he said.

John replied with a curt, “Thank you,” and walked in without so much as a glance at Lala.

Lala moved to take his hand, but the guard stopped her. “Your invitation card, ma’am.”

She fumbled through her handbag, pulled it out, and handed it over, tapping her foot as she waited. The moment it was approved, she hurried into the event hall.

Inside, she scanned the room until she spotted John talking to a man in a blue suit. Both of them held wine glasses, casually sipping.

Lala rushed over. “Babe!”

The man noticed her first, smiled, and leaned in to murmur something to John before excusing himself. As he walked away, John’s expression hardened. He turned to Lala, impatience written all over his face, and took another slow sip.

“Why are you pestering me non-stop?” he asked coldly.

Lala’s lips trembled. “John, we need to talk. You’ve been holding something against me—ignoring me for days. It’s killing me. Your silence feels worse than being starved. Please… can you talk to me?”

Her eyes brimmed with tears, frustration and panic tightening in her chest.

John remained calm. “What more is there to say? You already called me a cheater. You already said I chose Hannah over you. So why are you still doing this?”

Tears slipped down Lala’s cheeks. “I’m sorry I said that. I love you. I can’t do anything without you. I still want you.”

John let out a small, bitter laugh. “I don’t want you anymore. I’m with Hannah now. Move on, Lala. Someone else will love you.”

He turned as if to leave, but Lala grabbed his hand, clinging to him. “John, please. Don’t leave me. Babe, I’m begging you.”

John’s face went even colder. “It’s over, Lala.”

He pulled his hand free and walked away, leaving her standing there, shaken and breathless in the middle of the crowd.

Lala fled to the restroom and cried until her chest ached. Through the door, she overheard two men talking.

“Most of the performers aren’t here,” one complained. “Especially the ones willing to sing and entertain the guests.”

Lala’s eyes flickered with an idea. She wiped her face, straightened, and stepped out. Approaching them, she asked, “Sirs… can I perform?”

The men blinked, pleasantly surprised, then broke into excited smiles. “Of course you can. If you want to perform, come with us.”

Lala followed them to a back room. After a short while, she was ushered toward the stage.

The moment she stepped into the lights, John’s expression darkened into a deep frown.

He lifted his glass and swallowed the wine in one long gulp as Lala spoke into the microphone. “This song is dedicated to the love of my life—John. I love him, and I want us to be together forever.”

John’s brows drew tight as she sang. When she finally finished, he let out a slow breath—relief edged with disgust.

As the applause rose, Lala stepped off the stage and walked straight to John.

Lala nervously parted her lips to speak, but before a word could escape, John reached out, seized her wrist, and yanked her along. He dragged her to the doorway of the event hall and hissed, voice sharp with disgust.

“Lala, if you have no shame, I do. Today is for fundraising—for patients who can’t afford their hospital bills, for research that will save lives around the world. And you’re still selfish enough to make this about you. What kind of woman are you?”

Lala’s expression faltered. She hadn’t expected him to be angered by what she’d done. She lowered her head, shame washing over her—but John didn’t stop.

“Lala, no matter what you do, I’ll never love you again. I’ve moved on. You should, too.”

Panic surged through her. “No—no, please. Don’t leave me.”

She reached for his arm, clinging to him, but he shook her off. By then, the commotion had drawn attention; people nearby were staring.

John shoved her back and let out a cold, contemptuous snort. “I will never love a selfish, shameless woman like you. Lala, you’re disgusting.”

Lala crumpled to the floor, tears spilling freely as she stared up at him in shock and disbelief.

“You shouldn’t say something so hurtful to her,” a voice cut in.

Philip stepped forward.

John turned and froze when he saw who it was. “Uncle…”

Philip didn’t look at him. Instead, he moved to Lala and helped her to her feet, his tone gentler. “Are you okay?”

Lala nodded, though her eyes were still wet.

From behind Philip, John snapped, “Lala, stop trying to disgrace me. I won’t tolerate any public nuisance from you anymore.”

He turned and walked away.

As John disappeared into the crowd, Lala’s tears fell harder. Her lips trembled, her chest aching as if it might split open. Philip watched her for a moment before asking quietly, “Did you come in your own car?”

She wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand. “No.”

“Then I’ll drive you home,” Philip said.

She followed him to his parked car. They got in, and the ride passed in near silence. When they reached her house, Lala stepped out and forced herself to wave.

“Thank you,” she murmured.

Philip only nodded before driving off.

The moment Lala opened the door to her room, her composure shattered. She sank to the floor and sobbed until her body shook, grief and disbelief twisting together inside her. After all these years, she had never once imagined their story would end like this.