Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
Anna
Three days later, I was spending the afternoon with Sofia, teaching her how to mix colors. Sunlight streamed through the windows as Sofia painted her imaginary castle, her little face scrunched in concentration.
Alexander walked into the bedroom carrying an elegant gift box. I looked up at him, puzzled.
"There's an important charity gala tonight," he said, setting the box in front of me. "Would you do me the honor of being my date?"
I set down my paintbrush and opened the box curiously. Inside lay a deep blue evening gown, its silk fabric shimmering under the light. The neckline and sleeves were adorned with delicate diamonds. The dress was clearly expensive, crafted like a work of art.
"This is too much..." I started to refuse, feeling overwhelmed by such luxury.
Alexander came over and gently cupped my face. "You deserve the best. And as my date, you need to shine at these events."
His words made my heart race, but they also made me nervous. I'd never attended this kind of high-end social gathering.
The nerves lasted until evening.
With help from a professional makeup artist, I slipped into the gown. The fitted cut perfectly hugged my curves, and the deep blue made my skin look porcelain white. The artist applied flawless makeup, pinned up my hair, and added a diamond necklace.
Standing before the full-length mirror, I stared at my reflection in disbelief. Was this elegant, sophisticated woman really me? I looked like a model who'd stepped out of a fashion magazine.
That's when Alexander walked in. He wore a black suit that made him look even more imposing and mature, devastatingly handsome.
The moment he saw me, his breath caught.
I met his gaze in the mirror, blushing as I recognized that familiar fire in his eyes.
"Anna..." He came up behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist, whispering in my ear. "I want to hide you away so no one else can see you."
I watched his intense expression in the mirror, my cheeks burning. "Don't be so possessive. I'm not going anywhere."
I turned to adjust his tie, and he caught my hands in his, his palms warm and strong.
"Nervous?" he asked.
"A little," I admitted honestly. "I've never been to anything like this."
"Don't worry. I'm here." He kissed my forehead. "Just be yourself. That's enough."
The charity gala was held at a five-star hotel downtown. When we walked into the opulent ballroom, every eye turned toward us. Men were struck by my beauty, while women sized up this mysterious woman who'd suddenly appeared at Alexander's side.
Alexander possessively wrapped his arm around my waist as he introduced me to important business partners. I tried to maintain an elegant smile, shaking hands and making small talk with various VIPs, but my palms were sweating—the pressure was far more intense than I'd imagined.
Everyone was evaluating me, trying to figure out my identity and background. I could feel those scrutinizing gazes and the less-than-friendly looks from other women.
"This is my date, Anna," Alexander introduced me to a well-known media mogul. "A very talented journalist."
I knew he was building me up, giving me credibility in this circle.
But it only made me more nervous. I forced a smile—hoping it didn't look too strange—and nodded at the man I'd only seen in news reports before.
Just then, I felt Alexander's hand gently cover mine. His thumb brushed across my knuckles—a light, quick gesture that no one else would notice. That warm touch instantly steadied me, as if saying "I'm here, don't be afraid."
I stole a glance at him. He was focused on his conversation with the other men, but I could tell he was watching me peripherally, making sure I was okay. That subtle care helped ease my tension slightly.
About an hour later, while Alexander was deep in conversation with some business associates, I excused myself to the ladies' room, needing a moment to breathe and collect myself.
As soon as I pushed open the door, I saw a blonde woman standing at the mirror. She wore a blood-red evening gown that showed off her perfect figure, applying deep red lipstick. Every movement was elegant, like a performance, radiating aristocratic grace.
When she saw me enter, she glanced at me in the mirror.
Her eyes lingered on me for a moment before her lips curved into a barely-there smile.
She set down her lipstick and turned around, gracefully running her fingers through her golden hair with deliberate slowness, as if showcasing her perfection.
"First time at one of these events?" she asked with apparent concern. Her voice was beautiful, her tone friendly, but those ice-blue eyes held a hint of condescending assessment.
"Yes," I nodded, feeling uncomfortable.
"I can tell," she smiled warmly. "But don't be nervous. These events are actually quite simple. Just keep smiling and don't say too much. Most people just want to see what you look like anyway."
Her words sounded like helpful advice, but each sentence made me feel like I was being silently compared, as if she was implying I didn't belong in this circle—that I was just an outsider people were curious about.
I frowned but remained polite. "Thanks for the advice."
"Of course," she continued, elegantly checking her appearance. "In places like this, breeding and upbringing still matter quite a bit. But I'm sure you'll adapt quickly."
Her manner was perfectly refined, but every gesture made me feel particularly ordinary, like a commoner who'd stumbled into an elite gathering.
The air felt suffocating. I regretted leaving Alexander's side.
I was about to say goodbye when I noticed something as she turned to fix her hair—a pair of exquisite sapphire earrings.
My heart lurched. Those earrings looked remarkably similar to part of the family heirloom jewelry collection in Alexander's study. The same cut, the same setting, the same brilliant sapphires...
But maybe they just looked alike, I told myself. There were lots of similar pieces of jewelry in the world—it didn't have to be the same set.
The woman seemed to notice my gaze and deliberately touched her earring, making the sapphire sparkle even more under the lights.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" she said warmly. "It was a gift from a very dear friend."
She gracefully packed up her makeup and smiled before leaving. "See you later. Hope you enjoy the rest of your evening."
But something in her eyes made me feel dismissed, as if she was implying something.
When I returned to the ballroom, I immediately spotted the woman in red standing close to Alexander, deep in conversation. They stood very near each other, the woman laughing occasionally. Their interaction looked familiar, natural.
I was about to walk over when I saw the woman "accidentally" spill red wine on her dress.
"Oh, how clumsy of me!" she exclaimed.
Alexander immediately slipped off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders—the movement natural and practiced, like he'd done it countless times before. The woman looked at him gratefully, her hand stroking the jacket's lapel in an intimate, familiar gesture.
"Thank you, Alexander," she said softly. "You're always so thoughtful."
Just then, two society women walked past, quietly commenting on the scene.
"They look so perfect together," one sighed.
"Yes, such a shame they broke up when they were so well-matched," the other said regretfully. "Tatyana is so accomplished. I don't know why Alexander would choose someone else."
Hearing those words, my heart stopped.
Tatyana. This woman was Alexander's ex-girlfriend.
Her gaze found mine over Alexander's shoulder. Her lips curved slightly upward—that warm smile carrying a hint of triumph. The sapphire earrings glittered under the lights, as if silently declaring ownership.
She continued talking to Alexander, laughing occasionally, her hand casually brushing his arm. And Alexander seemed accustomed to this contact, not pulling away.
Standing in the crowd, watching this scene, I felt like something had slammed into my chest. Those mysterious earrings, that intimate interaction, the strangers' gossip, and that look in her eyes—like she was marking her territory—all made me feel like an unwelcome intruder.
My hands began trembling.
As a journalist, I'd witnessed countless scenes like this—powerful people and their complicated relationships. I knew the rules of this world, knew how men moved between different women, knew how past lovers cast shadows over present relationships.
But when you become part of the story yourself, all rational analysis becomes meaningless.
I remembered Tatyana's words in the restroom: "Understanding the rules matters more than playing the game." Now I understood what she meant. She wasn't challenging me—she was reminding me that I didn't understand the rules, that I didn't belong in this world.
My breathing became shallow. This feeling was like the loneliness from that night five years ago, magnified a thousandfold. Back then, I thought I'd only lost a stranger, but now... now I might lose everything I thought I had.
I needed air. I needed to escape this place full of judging eyes.
I turned and moved through the crowd, trying to maintain surface composure, but every step felt impossibly heavy, like walking through quicksand.
In this glittering high society gathering, I suddenly realized the vast distance between myself and this world. I didn't belong here. I was just an ordinary journalist, while Alexander's world was full of elegant, sophisticated women like Tatyana.
Maybe I'd always been just an accident.