Chapter 6

Celine only realized what was happening after Quinton had already pulled her onto the dance floor.

The music started playing, and Quinton wrapped his arm around her waist. But she couldn't help glancing repeatedly at Keith over in the corner.

He was standing by the buffet, eating cake. His expression was calm, his gaze indifferent. It was as though he were attending a party hosted by a stranger.

Quinton picked up on Celine's distraction and took offense.

"If you're so concerned about Keith, why don't you just go find him? I'll ask another woman to dance with me instead."

With that, he let go of Celine and walked toward a woman in a white evening gown named Yvette Benton.

Yvette was Quinton's former college classmate. She had always had a crush on him, so the moment she saw him approaching, she eagerly extended her hand.

Quinton took it, and the two glided onto the dance floor.

Celine stood where she was, watching Quinton laugh and chat with Yvette. Her expression gradually darkened.

As if deliberately trying to provoke her, Quinton moved closer and closer to Yvette. Eventually, he leaned toward her ear and whispered something.

Yvette laughed, then tilted her face up and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

The wineglass in Celine's hand shattered with a sharp crack. Blood mixed with the wine and trickled down, but she felt no pain.

She stormed over and grabbed Quinton by the wrist. Then, she pulled him off the dance floor.

Quinton struggled. "Celine, what are you doing? Let go of me!"

Celine said nothing, her face contorted with fury. She practically hauled Quinton out of the ballroom and onto the deserted terrace.

"Quinton, have you no shame?" she roared, her voice trembling with barely suppressed fury.

Quinton was stunned by her outburst but quickly grew angry himself. He wrenched his hand free and roared back, "I have no shame? I'm single, and so is Yvette! We're both willing, so what's the problem?

"Celine, who are you to me? What right do you have to tell me what to do? In what capacity are you meddling in my business? My ex-girlfriend? Or someone else's wife?"

"Why you!" His words struck a nerve. Celine's eyes turned bloodshot, and her last thread of restraint snapped.

She looked at the face she had loved for so many years, and a wave of emotions—intense possessiveness, resentment, and something else she couldn't even name—crashed through every defense she had.

She abruptly raised her head and kissed Quinton hard on the lips.

Quinton stiffened at first, but a flash of triumph quickly crossed his eyes. He wrapped his arms around Celine and eagerly kissed her back.

The terrace glass was frosted, so no one inside could see what was happening outside. But Keith, standing in the corner, had a clear view through a gap in the glass.

He watched as Celine kissed Quinton, Quinton's arms wrapped around her, the two of them kissing as though they couldn't bear to part.

Keith felt no pain. Instead, there was only a numb sense of absurdity.

The kiss went on for a long time, until they were both out of breath.

Celine suddenly shoved Quinton away, as if jolted awake from a fever dream. Her heart lurched, and then came a flood of panic and self-loathing.

"Sorry," she said, turning her face away. Not only was her voice hoarse, but it also carried a kind of flustered evasion. "I had too much to drink and mistook you for Keith."

Quinton clearly wasn't buying her excuse. He stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her waist.

"You never loved Keith, so how could you possibly mistake me for him? Please just stop lying to yourself, okay?" he said, his voice taking on a tearful, pleading tone. "You still love me. You've never been able to let me go.

"Celine, let's stop torturing each other. Divorce Keith, and we'll get back together. I swear I won't be as selfish and reckless as I was before. I'll love you properly, okay?"

The words "divorce" and "get back together" exploded in Celine's ears like thunder.

As though burned, she abruptly shoved Quinton away.

"What nonsense are you talking about?" she asked sternly. "I'm not divorcing Keith!"

"Why? Because he's been following you around like a dog for five years?" Quinton demanded. "Celine, how long are you going to keep running away from your own feelings?

"If you really don't have any feelings for me or care about me anymore, then I might as well kill myself."

As he spoke, he turned and made a sudden move toward the edge of the terrace, looking as though he genuinely intended to jump.

"Quinton! Have you lost your mind?"

Celine's expression changed dramatically, and she hurried forward to pull him back.

Just then, the enormous decorative crystal chandelier overhead let out a strained creak, as though it could no longer bear its own weight. The next moment, it came crashing down—and it was headed straight for Quinton's head.

"Watch out!"

Celine's pupils contracted. Without a second thought, she threw herself over Quinton, using her body to shield him as they rolled to the side.

The heavy crystal chandelier slammed into the floor with a loud crash and shattered instantly, sending shards flying in every direction.

Several large shards sliced across Celine's back. Blood immediately welled up and stained her expensive clothes red.

"Celine, are you okay? You're bleeding!" Quinton cried, his face pale with fright.

Startled by the loud crash, the people in the ballroom rushed out one after another.

The scene threw everyone into chaos. Some called for an ambulance, while others stepped forward to help.

Keith stood at the edge of the crowd, feeling not the slightest stir of emotion. The whole scene struck him as nothing more than an absurd and unpleasant spectacle.

He didn't step forward or ask a single question. He didn't even linger for another second.

Amid the piercing wail of the ambulance siren, he quietly turned and walked away.