Selene took one glass.
The waiter hesitated, sensing tension.
Selene dismissed him with a small gesture.
Then she looked at Lara.
“Maybe you need to learn how places like this work.”
Lara’s voice remained soft.
“Be careful.”
Selene laughed.
“Was that a threat?”
“No.”
“What was it?”
“Advice.”
That should have been the end.
Instead, Selene tilted the glass.
The wine poured across Lara’s dress.
The room fell silent.
It soaked quickly.
Cold liquid struck Lara’s skin beneath the fabric.
She smelled red wine and expensive perfume.
A drop fell from the end of her sleeve.
Another struck the marble.
Someone whispered:
“Oh my God.”
Lara did not move.
Adrien laughed.
Not long.
Two seconds perhaps.
Enough.
“That’s what happens,” he said, “when someone pretends to be important.”
Lara lifted her eyes.
The expression on her face made the nearest board member, Evelyn Shaw, suddenly step forward from across the circle.
Evelyn was sixty-four, one of Hexton’s longest-serving directors.
She had met Lara twice.
“Adrien,” Evelyn said sharply.
He barely heard her.
Selene handed the glass to the waiter.
“Security should remove her.”
Evelyn was already moving faster.
“Adrien.”
This time, he turned.
“What?”
Evelyn looked at Lara.
Then the stained dress.
Her face went white.
“Ms. Wynn.”
Adrien frowned.
Selene stopped smiling.
Lara looked at Evelyn.
“Good evening, Ms. Shaw.”
That was the exact second Adrien’s brain began connecting pieces.
Wynn.
Video call.
Windche.
Guest list.
He looked at Lara again.
Really looked.
The shape of her face.
Her eyes.
The voice.
His stomach dropped.
Evelyn whispered:
“Oh, no.”
Lara looked toward Selene.
Then Adrien.
She did not announce who she was.
Did not threaten.
Did not demand an apology.
She simply said:
“I’ve seen enough.”
Then turned and walked away.
The crowd parted automatically.
People who had been recording lowered their phones.
No one spoke to her.
No one knew what to say.
Lara crossed the ballroom slowly, wine dripping onto the marble behind her.
At the door, the hostess saw the dress and covered her mouth.
“Ms. Wynn, what happened?”
“I’m leaving.”
“Let me get someone.”
“No.”
Lara walked through the lobby.
Outside, cool air hit her face.
Her driver saw her and immediately got out.
“Ms. Wynn?”
“Car.”
He opened the door.
She entered.
Only after the doors closed did Lara let her hands shake.
Not from fear.
From anger.
Deep, humiliating anger.
Naomi answered on the first ring.
“What happened?”