Birds of a Feather

Serena blinked at the finger pointed straight at her face. The young woman standing before her vibrated with rage, her maroon mermaid-hem dress clinging to her figure. Despite her striking features, the raw venom twisting her expression ruined any trace of elegance.

Serena kept her posture relaxed. Her brow furrowed in genuine confusion. "You are...?"

The woman jerked her chin up. A harsh sneer stretched across her lips. "What a faker! Playing the memory loss card again? What else do you have hiding up those sleeves of yours? You think a cheap trick like that will save you from reality?"

Across the sprawling banquet hall, the heavy mahogany doors had just shut. Damian stood near the entrance. The ambient chatter of the party faded into white noise the second his gaze swept over the crowd and locked onto Serena.

He froze. An involuntary tightness gripped his chest.

She stood amidst the hostile whispers, looking ethereal. Her silky dark hair cascaded over her shoulders, a few loose curls framing her delicate neck. The claret evening gown she wore draped over her fair skin like poured wine, the strapless cut highlighting the sharp, elegant lines of her collarbone. Her lips mirrored the dark red of bruised rose petals, and her eyes held a lucid, crystalline clarity that caught the chandelier's light.

The breath vanished from Damian’s lungs.

A primal, intense pull rooted him to the spot. His eyes darkened to the color of a stormy sea. He found himself trapped in the magnetic orbit of her presence, unable to tear his gaze away from the woman he was supposed to despise. Every muscle in his broad shoulders coiled tight with a conflicting surge of raw admiration and possessive heat.

Beside him, Vivian tracked his line of sight. Her smile faltered. A sharp, calculated glint flashed in her eyes as she noticed the target of his undivided attention.

From across the room, the sheer weight of Damian’s stare slammed into Serena. The air around her turned heavy. She lifted her chin, her eyes tracking through the sea of guests until she met his cold, oppressive gaze. A shiver traced her spine. The tension stretched between them like a wire pulled to its breaking point.

Then, Vivian leaned close to Damian. She murmured a few words near his ear. Only then did the man blink, tearing his focus away. The suffocating pressure binding Serena vanished just as fast as it appeared.

Moments later, the crowd parted. Damian and Vivian approached the epicenter of the commotion. Vivian took the lead, her posture exuding effortless grace.

"Chloe," Vivian greeted, her tone smooth and polished. "When did you arrive?"

The woman who had just screamed in Serena's face dropped her aggressive stance in a heartbeat. "Not long ago," Chloe answered. Her eyes darted up to the towering man beside Vivian, sparkling with instant admiration. Her voice morphed into a sweet, gentle hum. "Hi, Damian."

Tessa leaned close to Serena's shoulder. "That is Chloe Mercer," she muttered under her breath. "The one who pushed you into the pool last time."

A spark of realization lit up Serena's mind. She studied the woman. No wonder she acted with such unbridled arrogance. She was Vivian’s cousin.

Vivian shifted her attention to Serena. A practiced, polite smile rested on her lips, but it failed to reach her eyes. "Ms. Sterling. I bumped into Damian at the entrance. I hope you will not misunderstand the situation."

Serena held Vivian's gaze and offered no response. The silence hung in the air, thick and unyielding.

Undaunted, Vivian let her alluring voice carry over the quieted onlookers. "I heard Damian mention your car crash. Such a terrible thing. How are you holding up now?"

"I am fine," Serena replied, her voice cool and detached.

Chloe slapped a hand over her mouth, letting out a sharp, mocking cackle. "Well, she is not hurt physically! But she claims she has amnesia again. This time, it isn't even selective. She pretends she does not know anyone at all. She even asked who I was a minute ago. Hahaha! Oh, what a hilarious performance!"

"Amnesia?" Vivian turned her head, feigning hesitation. She looked Serena up and down. "Ms. Sterling, do you... truly have amnesia again?"

Vivian played the diplomat, avoiding Chloe's raw hostility. Yet, the emphasis she placed on the word 'again' dripped with weaponized sarcasm. It was a calculated strike wrapped in polite concern.

Tessa clenched her fists. Her protective instincts flared. "Serena really has amnesia this time! Stop acting like she made it up!"

Chloe scoffed, tossing her hair back. "She used the exact same excuse before. Who knows if it is real or just another pathetic lie to get attention?"

For the first time, Chloe turned her hostile glare toward Tessa. She raked her eyes over Tessa’s outfit, her lip curling in blatant disgust. "And who do you think you are? Do you honestly believe you have the right to speak to us? Heh! Birds of a feather flock together, I suppose. Trash makes friends with trash. Did no one teach you basic manners?"

Tessa possessed a notorious short temper, especially when defending the people she cared about. Her face flushed red. She opened her mouth, ready to tear into Chloe and start a full-blown screaming match in the middle of the luxury venue.

Before Tessa could utter a single syllable, Serena reached out. She placed a gentle, grounding hand on Tessa's arm, stopping her in her tracks.

Serena stepped forward. A calm, brilliant smile bloomed on her face. She looked Chloe dead in the eye.

"Miss Mercer, you make an excellent point," Serena said, her voice melodic and crystal clear. "Birds of a feather do flock together. People with identical characteristics tend to seek each other out and stick together." She tilted her head, her smile widening into something dangerous. "Just like how mistresses love to find each other, share their secrets, and band together."

The blood drained from Chloe’s face. In a split second, her pale skin flushed a furious, ugly purple. She thrust her finger inches from Serena's nose, her voice shrill enough to crack glass.

"Who the hell are you calling a mistress?!" Chloe snarled.

Serena blinked, her expression a mask of flawless, unbothered innocence. "I was just talking about mistresses in general. Why are you getting so worked up? Aren't you the one who just declared that people with similar characteristics band together?"

She paused, letting the silence amplify the humiliation. "Did I say something wrong? Did I accidentally poke a sore spot, Miss Mercer? Please, educate me so I can be more careful in the future."

The trap slammed shut. Chloe stood frozen, trembling with rage. She wanted to rip the smug smile right off Serena's beautiful face. The logic was airtight and humiliating. Society despised homewreckers. Condemning a scandalous woman of that nature was expected. If Chloe disagreed with Serena’s statement, she was publicly defending mistresses. Worse, her intense, defensive reaction served as a blatant confession.

Unable to formulate a logical comeback, Chloe resorted to raw, unhinged fury. "Serena Sterling, you bi—"

"Chloe." Vivian's voice sliced through the rising chaos like a steel blade. "Ms. Sterling was just making a passing comment. She meant nothing by it."

Chloe stamped her foot, her chest heaving. "But she is clearly making oblique accusations about—"

"That is enough." Vivian’s tone dropped ten degrees, turning ice-cold.

Chloe snapped her mouth shut. She swallowed her words, glaring daggers at the floor. A fire raged in her chest, suffocating her with no outlet for release.

Standing slightly behind Serena, Tessa bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself from cheering. What a flawless counterattack. She had spent years harboring a deep, simmering resentment toward these two women, despising how they paraded around with such unwarranted arrogance. Seeing Chloe put in her place felt intoxicating.

Serena, however, felt no triumph.

The hair on the back of her neck stood up. Damian had not looked away. He stood just a few feet away, his dark, calculating eyes pinned on her the entire time she dismantled Chloe. The intensity of his focus felt like a physical weight bearing down on her skin. It made her stomach twist in uncomfortable knots. She needed to put distance between them.

"Hey," Serena leaned toward Tessa, dropping her voice to a whisper. "Let's go find the powder room—"

"It is time to give our birthday blessing to Grandpa."

The deep, authoritative rumble of Damian's voice severed her sentence. He did not look at Tessa. He did not look at Vivian. His dark eyes remained fixed solely on Serena, his tone leaving zero room for argument.

The rules of high-society etiquette dictated their actions. As husband and wife, Serena and Damian were obligated to present a united front and deliver their well-wishes to Senior Sinclair before the main festivities commenced. Avoiding it would spark a scandal far worse than the gossip currently circulating the room.

Serena pressed her lips together. She frowned, acknowledging the inescapable reality of her position.

"Tessa," Serena murmured, her tone reluctant. "I have to go greet Grandpa. Wait for me right here. I will be back as soon as I can."

She hesitated, casting a wary glance toward the Mercer cousins. "Do not wander off. If anyone tries to bother you, call me right away."

Tessa nodded, her expression earnest. "Alright. Go do what you have to do. Do not worry about me, I can handle myself just fine."

With a final, tight breath, Serena turned and walked away, the towering presence of Damian matching her steps as they headed toward the inner halls.

Behind them, the facade of peace cracked. Chloe stared at Serena’s retreating back, her nails digging into the palms of her hands. A dark, vicious gleam settled in her eyes. Humiliation tasted like ash in her mouth, and she had no intention of letting the night end without settling the score. As the party buzzed around her, Chloe's mind raced, weaving a malicious scheme guaranteed to destroy Serena before the banquet concluded.