CHAPTER 145: WHEN THE LINE BLURS

As the laughter and chatter settled back into clinks of crystal and soft music, Seraphina set her eyes on the door.

"Sister Sera..." a sharp, animated voice echoed in the hall, grabbing everyone’s attention.

A young woman strode into the hall, her golden scarf fluttering behind her. Tall, styled, and clearly someone accustomed to attention, she pulled Seraphina into a half-hug.

Dahlia Astor, Seraphina’s cousin.

"Dahlia," Seraphina smiled, though it wavered for half a second. "You actually came."

"Of course I came. I wasn’t going to miss your banquet." Her eyes swept around as she exclaimed, "You didn’t tell me this would be so elegant! My God, this is better than that charity dinner in Vienna last month. At least people here have actual taste."

Aveline stood a few feet away, waiting for Seraphina to finish the conversation. She didn’t intend to linger, but neither did she want to interrupt.

Seraphina chuckled, "Well, I try."

"You won’t believe my layover in Monaco," Dahlia chattered. "Absolute disaster. But I made the best of it. Found this lovely rose quartz clutch, limited edition. Oh!"

She turned to the side, eyeing the display. "Can I take that necklace on display? The one with the teardrop emerald?"

Seraphina laughed airily. "Of course, if you like it."

Aveline’s patience was thinning. She turned slightly, ready to step away, when Seraphina’s voice rose.

"Oh! I forgot to introduce someone special." She gently turned Dahlia around to face Aveline.

"Dahlia, meet Aveline Laurent. The event manager. All credit for this night goes to her."

Dahlia’s expression shifted, not out of respect. At first, she seemed poised to offer a casual nod. But then something clicked.

"Aveline Laurent!?" she exclaimed, her voice louder than necessary. "Wait, isn’t she the one Damien Ashford divorced after just three months of marriage?"

A beat of silence followed. Then came the rustle of whispers, turning heads, raised brows. Some smiled behind their flutes. Others leaned closer to hear more.

Seraphina’s brows twitched. "Dahlia," she muttered under her breath, "watch your words."

"I’m stating the truth," Dahlia shrugged with a smirk. "Oh, come on, we’re all thinking about it."

Aveline held Dahlia’s gaze with a calm that made her seem far older than her age. She didn’t flinch. Didn’t blink.

But Seraphina wasn’t looking at her cousin anymore. Her eyes found Aveline’s and froze.

Because Aveline wasn’t reacting. Her expression was composed, detached, as though they were discussing someone else entirely.

"Enjoy the party," she said coolly, turning to leave.

"Wait..." Seraphina caught Aveline’s shoulder. "I’m so sorry. My cousin..."

"Sister Sera, stop apologizing," Dahlia interjected sharply. "It was public knowledge, not some dark secret."

Aveline merely glanced at Dahlia. She smoothly pushed the hand off her shoulder. "I’ve got to go." She walked towards the exit.

Aveline’s actions made Dahlia’s expression darken. How dare she ignore Seraphina?

"Aveline Laurent," she called after Aveline, her voice sharp like a blade wrapped in silk, "Don’t act all high and mighty now. Just because your father is rich doesn’t mean the rest of us forget your place. People like us don’t get dumped and come back for second rounds."

A few gasps followed.

Aveline turned slightly and smiled. She didn’t need to answer. She didn’t need to react. Because the moment hung heavy.

Margaret took a step forward, rage in her eyes, but Aveline raised a quiet hand to stop her. "It’s alright, Mom."

Margaret’s grip on her flute tightened. She didn’t say a word, but her eyes said enough.

Before the Laurents could react further, Dahlia turned to the other ladies with a dazzling grin.

"Anyway, I love the evening," she gushed. "Aveline Laurent has a real eye for glamour. You can always tell when someone’s climbed their way up. The little details, they just try harder, you know? In a good way."

She clinked glasses with a lady beside her who looked too stunned to respond.

Dahlia’s voice dripped with mock praise. "It’s inspiring, really," she added with a glint in her eyes. "Makes you believe anyone could be in this room, no matter where they started."

Margaret’s lips parted, barely holding herself back. Aveline hadn’t done any crime to say that to her.

Isabella narrowed her eyes. Dahlia had polished her words until they were clean, surgical. "Ms. Astor," she said, voice low and composed, "I believe you don’t know enough about the ladies here."

Dahlia just offered a pleasant smile. "Oh, Chairwoman Lancaster, I was just admiring Aveline Laurent’s ambition. That’s not a crime, is it?"

Even the women who had been gossiping earlier now remained silent. The line between insult and compliment had blurred too well.

Aveline didn’t react immediately. She didn’t want to cause a scene at her first event, but walking away without giving Dahlia a taste of her own medicine would be too kind.

"Absolutely not," she said gently. "Not everyone can have elegance just by having money. I own it."

The silence that followed was deafening.

A few women choked on their laughter behind champagne flutes. One even whispered, "She really said that!?"

Dahlia blinked, momentarily stunned, unsure whether Aveline had accepted her words or insulted her.

Aveline simply turned, her heels clicking softly against the marble as she walked away, grace trailing behind her like her second skin.

Seraphina exhaled slowly, regaining her poise. Her attempt to learn about Aveline’s personality had been successful, but that had come as a shock.

She had unknowingly expected the spoiled daughter of the Laurents to be arrogant and self-obsessed, but Aveline was mind-blowing. Even Seraphina was impressed and also feared for her plan.

Would she be able to break Aveline and Alaric’s relationship easily?

Though Aveline’s words irked her, Dahlia shifted her focus: "Sister Sera, so... about that surprise you mentioned earlier?"

Seraphina arched a brow, her expression cool. "Oh, right, the surprise." She sipped her champagne, then leaned in, lowering her voice just enough. "Alaric’s here. Downstairs, second floor. In a private meeting."

Dahlia’s eyes lit up instantly. "Seriously? You should’ve said that first."

Seraphina smiled but added pointedly, "Don’t tell him I told you. He wouldn’t like it."

"Of course," Dahlia nodded eagerly. "Just a coincidence if I happen to run into him, right?" She winked, then turned swiftly and disappeared towards the exit.

...

Downstairs, the second floor held a quieter, more professional tone. Walls were lined with sleek wooden panels and doors that read Orchid Room, Ivory, and so on. Dahlia made her way past each one, her heels clicking with purpose, only to find them all empty.

Annoyed, she waved down the floor manager, who stood by the service desk.

"Excuse me," she smiled sweetly. "Mr. Alaric Lancaster had a meeting here. Where did he go after it ended?"

The manager hesitated. Alaric was a Lancaster, and he didn’t recognize the lady in front of him. So he didn’t reveal anything: "I’m sorry, miss, but I’m not aware of his current location."

Her brows lifted, skeptical. "You don’t know?"

"It concluded a few minutes ago, but I wasn’t informed of where he headed next." The manager was smooth.

She narrowed her eyes but let it go. "Alright," she said, then turned on her heel and headed further downstairs.

She stopped at two different locations along the way, each time offering a graceful smile and perfectly phrased questions. Neither manager gave her a different answer.

Both said the same thing: "I’m afraid I don’t know where Mr. Lancaster went, miss."

Her frustration threatened to show, but she kept her composure. The front desk was her last hope.

"Could you check something for me?" Dahlia asked the receptionist, tapping her perfectly manicured nails on the counter. "Did Mr. Alaric Lancaster leave the hotel? I need to hand in a file from the meeting."

The receptionist checked, then shook her head. "No, miss. His car is still in the garage, and his departure hasn’t been recorded."

A slow, triumphant smile curved Dahlia’s lips. "Perfect. Thank you."

Determined, she visited all four restaurants inside the hotel, each time scanning the room with hope and leaving with subtle disappointment.

When she stepped into the terrace foyer, her irritation had simmered into impatience. But laughter floated from outside, the kind that made her spine straighten.

She walked out, heels clicking against the stone tiles, following the sound.

There, under the soft golden glow of the candles, with the skyline twinkling behind them, sat Aveline, laughing. She playfully dodged a man’s outstretched hand.

Dahlia’s heels barely made a sound as she moved around the terrace. "Host a party, then bring in a man to play with. Aren’t you just perfect at this?"

Aveline turned at the sharp voice. Her smile fell as her eyes met Dahlia’s. She couldn’t understand whether she had ever offended Dahlia or if that was just her personality.

Dahlia froze when the man turned to her.

Alaric Lancaster.

Her smirk disappeared. She couldn’t believe she had been searching the whole hotel for him, and he was sitting with Aveline, a divorcee.

The sharp, unreadable cut of his expression had only darkened further at the sight of her.

Dahlia took a slow step forward, keeping her tone light but her gaze malicious, "I suppose it makes sense now. The décor. The lighting. The charm." Her smile curled as she tilted her head. "You arranged it for your personal rendezvous."

Aveline arched an eyebrow, unmoved.

"Less than a month," Dahlia added sweetly, eyes flicking between them. "No wonder Damien Ashford let you go. He must have known how you fool around with men."

Alaric stood up before Aveline could speak: "You’ve got ten seconds to vanish." His voice was cold and venomous.