Chapter 4 - The Gala

Author's pov

“I still think red would’ve made more of a statement,” Mason said, as he adjusted the straps on Ivy’s heels with practiced ease.

Ivy glanced at her reflection in the mirror, her lips curving just slightly. “This dress doesn’t need to be red to make a statement.”

The emerald green clung to her figure perfectly. It looked elegant, understated but still somehow deadly. She looked like money, power and revenge blended into one.

Mason stood, brushing invisible lint from her shoulder. “Well, you’re going to break necks either way. Try not to cause a lawsuit.”

Just as she laughed in response to mason, a knock echoed through the apartment.

Mason raised an eyebrow. “Showtime.”

Ivy opened the door to find Liam Calloway on the other side, dressed in a sharp tux, his hair messily perfect like he hadn’t tried too hard. Of course. He never did.

His smirk faltered the moment he saw her, his jaw clenched slightly, his lips parted, but the smirk came first. “Wow. Trying to impress me?”

“God, no.” Ivy’s voice was flat, cool. “This is for the cameras.”

She seemed to see a flicker of something in his eyes, surprise? Lust? Regret? She didn’t care.

“Ivy.”

She didn’t smile, just tilted her head. “You’re late.”

He cleared his throat, his gaze unapologetically trailing down her dress. “Had to look presentable. Wouldn’t want to embarrass my fiancée.”

“Too late for that,” Mason muttered under his breath.

Liam raised a brow. “Friend?”

“Assistant,” Ivy replied, grabbing her clutch. “And no, he’s not coming with us.”

Liam stepped aside. “Ready?”

She didn’t answer. Just walked past him like she didn’t care if he followed.

The gala was already in full swing when they arrived. The venue looked like it had been dipped in gold, crystal chandeliers, velvet everything and waiters balancing champagne like acrobats.

The second Ivy stepped out of the car, camera flashes erupted like fireworks.

“Miss Monroe!”

“Miss Monroe, can we get a smile?”

“Is it true the wedding’s happening this fall?”

Ivy posed effortlessly, one hand on her hip, the other looped through Liam’s arm like she wasn't fantasizing about breaking it off.

The very second they walked in, everywhere quietened and the whispers followed instantly.

Not because she was the Ivy Monroe.

But because some of them recognized her.

High school faces, older, but familiar. Boys who once ignored her. Girls who whispered and laughed behind their hands.

They were staring now.

“Wait… is that…?”

“No way. That’s not Ivy Monroe.”

“Plain Ivy? That’s her?!”

“Holy sh*t, she’s marrying Liam Calloway?”

Not one of them looked smug as they always did before. They were all staring with their jaws literally on the floor as they finally recognized that the Ivy Monroe was the 'plain ivy' they had mocked all through high school days.

Liam glanced sideways as they walked in. “I think we’ve got a few fans.”

She hummed. “Should I sign autographs?”

He chuckled. “Didn’t know you had this side.”

“You never really looked, did you?” she said calmly.

Later, they stood side by side as flashbulbs popped around them.

“You’re playing this role a little too well,” Liam said under his breath.

“It’s not a role. I just don’t hate the attention,” Ivy replied, sipping champagne.

He studied her for a second. “You’ve changed.”

She smiled sweetly at him looking like they were having a loving conversation. “And you haven’t.”

Before he could respond, she turned to greet an investor’s wife, her tone warm, her smile smooth.

Liam stood there, momentarily forgotten.

And for the first time that night, he realized, he was the one being ignored.

Meanwhile, across the ballroom, champagne glass trembling in her grip, Bianca Winters stared like she’d seen a ghost.

“Tell me that’s not Plain Ivy,” she hissed to the woman beside her.

“It is,” the friend whispered back, equally wide-eyed. “She looks… wow. Turns out she was actually the daughter of Charles Monroe, how come we never knew?”

Bianca’s jaw clenched.

She had spent years being the one who turned heads. Years being Liam’s arm candy, on and off, until he discarded her like he always did.

But this?

This was worse than rejection.

This was Liam, standing next to Plain Ivy, like she belonged there. Like she wasn’t the same loser Bianca used to mock.

Bianca’s eyes narrowed as she watched Ivy laugh at something an investor said, head tilting in that perfect, effortless way. The emerald dress shimmered every time she moved, catching every damn light in the room.

“She probably got a nose job,” Bianca muttered.

“Or a stylist,” the woman offered.

Bianca didn’t blink. “Or blackmail photos.”

The woman looked awkward but stayed quiet.

Across the room, Ivy’s eyes slid lazily in Bianca’s direction for half a second.

No smile. No wave.

Just a glance.

And then she turned away like Bianca didn’t even exist.

Bianca felt her chest tighten with rage.

That girl?

That nobody?

Was now the fiancée of Liam Calloway.

And worse… she actually looked like she belonged in his world.

Bianca’s fingers dug into her champagne flute to the point of almost cracking the glass.