Stained Elegance

Damon’s hands shook as he gripped the crystal glass. The amber liquid burned down his throat, setting his insides on fire. By the time he slammed his eighth empty glass onto the table, his knees buckled. A nasty cold already had him in its grip, and the massive intake of hard liquor rapidly caught up to him. Every drop of color drained from his face. He swayed, gasping for air, clutching the edge of the table to keep himself from collapsing right there on the carpet. The crowd watched the pathetic display in silence.

Vivienne stepped in. Her posture remained straight, her demeanor composed as she confidently took charge of the spectacle. She glanced at the two remaining glasses filled to the brim.

"There are exactly two glasses left," she announced, her clear voice cutting through the heavy tension in the banquet hall. She moved past her swaying husband. "I will handle the remainder myself."

Without a single moment of hesitation, she wrapped her delicate fingers around the crystal stem. She lifted the glass to her lips and tipped her head back. The fiery whisky slid down her throat. She did not cough. She did not flinch. Moving with effortless, swan-like grace, she set the empty glass down and picked up the final shot. She tossed that one back just as smoothly, leaving the surrounding onlookers staring in awe at her iron tolerance.

A smattering of genuine applause broke out among the elite guests. She placed the tenth and final glass onto the table. The sharp clink of crystal against wood signaled the end of the brutal ordeal.

Vivienne turned her gaze to the powerful man who had orchestrated this game. She looked straight at Gideon, keeping her tone steady and professional.

"Since the drinks are now finished," she stated, "I trust Mr. Kensington is finally feeling much better regarding our past dispute."

Gideon's perfectly sculpted features remained icy and unreadable. Not a trace of warmth touched his eyes. He let out a low scoff, his deep voice dripping with condescension as he mocked them.

"Mrs. and Mr. Winslow truly are the definition of a loving, devoted couple."

With that parting shot, he sharply turned his back on them. He walked away from the table, clearly having lost all interest in continuing the public game.

Beside Vivienne, Damon groaned. A wave of deep nausea hit his stomach. Clapping a hand over his mouth, he shoved his way through the whispering crowd, rushing desperately toward the restroom to throw up.

Vivienne watched him retreat, letting out a quiet breath. Before she could gather her bearings, a sudden, shocking chill hit her chest.

Dark, sticky red wine splashed directly over the front of her pristine white silk gown. The crimson liquid bled into the expensive fabric, ruining the elegant design in seconds.

Vivienne gasped. She spun around. Bianca stood right beside her, holding an empty wine glass.

"Oh no! I am so sorry!" Bianca's face twisted into an exaggerated mask of fake shock. She raised a hand to her mouth, loudly feigning innocence for the surrounding guests. "I simply tripped on the carpet!"

Despite the loud apology, Bianca's eyes gleamed with malicious triumph. She soaked in the sight of the ruined dress, clearly seeking to humiliate Vivienne after her victorious moment at the main table.

Seeking immediate backup for her clumsy act, Bianca turned dramatically toward her mother. "Mom, look what I did. I ruined Vivienne's dress."

Miriam stepped forward. Her sharp eyes scanned the wine-soaked silk. Instead of offering an apology or a napkin, she coldly dismissed the blatant act of sabotage.

"Do not worry about it," Miriam said, her voice loud enough for the crowd to hear. She patted Bianca's arm. "It is just a dress. Vivienne has taken so much from you since childhood; she surely will not care about a single piece of ruined clothing."

Miriam turned on her heel and walked away. She did not cast a single glance of empathy back at her adopted daughter.

Watching Miriam's retreating back, an agonizing sting pierced Vivienne's heart. The horrific moment sharply echoed the devastating night three years ago when the DNA results were first revealed, proving Vivienne was actually the child of Miriam's most hated enemy. The revelation had driven Miriam to slap her across the face, physically disowning her and throwing her out onto the cold streets.

The pain in her chest flared, sharp and familiar.

Around her, the elite guests immediately began whispering to one another. Their murmurs carried notes of genuine sympathy over the blatant, unchecked bullying they had just witnessed.

"Let's get you out of this."

Vivienne blinked, pulling herself from the painful memories. Gemma Kensington appeared at her side. In a sea of elaborate evening gowns, Gemma stood out in a stylishly casual orange tank top and deep blue jeans. She offered a warm, grounding smile.

"I can lend you a fresh outfit from my closet to escape this," Gemma offered, her tone practical and kind. "Come on."

Grateful for the rescue, Vivienne nodded. She followed Gemma away from the staring crowd, heading up the grand, sweeping staircase. They left the whispers behind, stepping into the quiet luxury of the second floor.

Gemma led her down a quiet, secluded hallway, stopping in front of a heavy oak door. She pushed it open, revealing a spacious, dimly lit private room.

"I just got back from traveling, so I don't have any formal dresses unpacked," Gemma explained. She dug into a sleek wardrobe and quickly handed over a simple yellow tank top and a pair of deep blue jeans. "This should work for now."

"Thank you. This is perfect," Vivienne said, accepting the soft clothes.

Gemma offered a bright smile and stepped back toward the hallway to rejoin the party. "Take your time. You have total privacy in here. This room is practically always empty." She tapped the sleek metal panel next to the handle. "Plus, the heavy oak door is equipped with a high-tech fingerprint lock. No one else can possibly gain entry."

"I appreciate it," Vivienne murmured.

Gemma stepped out and closed the heavy door. The latch clicked firmly into place.

Trusting the assurance, Vivienne walked over to the tall windows. She grabbed the edges of the heavy velvet curtains and dragged them shut, plunging the large room into dim privacy. She let out a long sigh, letting her tense muscles drop.

She reached behind her back, finding the hidden zipper of her ruined gown. The sticky wine clung to her skin, making the fabric heavy and uncomfortable. She pulled the zipper down and began the process of peeling the wet silk off her body.

She was exactly halfway out of the dress. The white silk bunched around her waist, her arms tangled in the delicate straps.

*Click.*

The distinct, sharp sound of the electronic lock echoed loudly in the quiet room.

Vivienne froze. Her breath caught in her throat.

Before she could untangle her arms, the heavy door smoothly swung open.

Instinctively panicking, Vivienne clutched the ruined silk fabric tightly against her chest, her heart hammering against her ribs. Her wide, panicked eyes darted to the doorway.

She slammed right into Gideon's cold, calculating gaze.

A brief, genuine flicker of surprise quickly crossed his striking features. He paused in the doorway, taking in the sight of her bare shoulders and the messy bundle of silk pressed against her chest. Then, his expression hardened. He silently stepped fully inside the room and deliberately pushed the heavy door shut behind him, trapping them together.

The latch clicked again. The sudden silence was suffocating.

"Mr. Kensington?" Vivienne breathed out.

A massive wave of relief momentarily washed over her as she recognized him. Naively believing this was merely a mix-up, she relaxed her grip just a fraction.

"I am so sorry," she quickly and breathlessly explained, keeping the dress pinned to her skin. "My dress was ruined downstairs. Gemma kindly offered me this specific space to change my clothes after the wine spill."

She hoped he would simply apologize and leave.

Instead of turning around, Gideon took a slow step forward.

Gideon raised an eyebrow, his tone incredulous. "Do you not realize this is my room?"