Vivian POV
I balanced a tray of champagne flutes, weaving through the crowded ballroom, the jazz band's saxophone weaving a sultry tune. My navy dress clung to me, Clara's makeup job giving me a confidence I didn't feel. Bella's pink hair clip sat in my pocket, its worn heart a reminder of the sister I'd lost ten years ago. Tonight was Evans' birthday, and I was ready to confess my feelings, months of him lingering at my bar, sipping whiskey, listening to my story about Bella, had led to this. But the high-society crowd, dripping in diamonds and fake laughs, made me feel like a fish out of water.
"Champagne, miss?" I offered a flute to a woman in a sequined gown, her perfume sharp enough to sting.
She snatched it without a glance. "Took you long enough," she muttered, turning back to her group.
I bit my tongue, moving on. Clara had told me to mingle, but carrying a tray felt safer than navigating these sharks. I scanned for Evans, my gift, a silver pen, burning a hole in my pocket next to Bella's clip. Where was he? I'd barely seen him all day.
"Vivian, put that down!" Clara hissed, appearing beside me in her server's uniform. "You're a guest, not staff!"
"I'm helping," I said, adjusting the tray. "Keeps me busy while I look for Evans."
She sighed, snagging a flute for herself. "Fine, but don't let Madeline catch you. She's prowling."
As if on cue, Madeline's voice sliced through the chatter. "Vivian, what are you doing?" She stood by a marble column, her silver gown glinting, her smile a thinly veiled sneer.
"Pitching in," I said, holding the tray steady. "Thought I'd make myself useful."
"Useful?" She stepped closer, her heels clicking. "This is a Newton event, not a diner. Put that tray down before you embarrass us further."
My cheeks flushed, but I set the tray on a nearby table. "Just trying to help, Ms. Newton."
"Help by staying out of the way," she snapped, then turned to a man in a tux. "Charles, you must try the caviar."
I clenched my fists, heading toward the bar to regroup. The crowd's chatter felt like a wall, shutting me out. A man bumped into me, his drink sloshing onto my dress. "Watch it," he grunted, not even pausing.
"Sorry," I muttered, dabbing at the stain with a napkin. My isolation hit hard, these people didn't know me, didn't care. I was Evans' charity case, nothing more.
At the bar, I swapped my tray for a water, catching my breath. Clara was pouring wine, her eyes scanning the room. "You okay, girl?" she asked, sliding me a glass.
"Barely," I said, sipping. "Madeline's out for blood, and I can't find Evans."
"He's been weird all day," she said, lowering her voice. "Running around, taking calls. Something's up."
"Like what?" I pressed, my stomach knotting.
"Dunno," she said, wiping the counter. "But he's not himself. Keep your eyes open."
I nodded, glancing around. Nate stood by the terrace doors, his broad shoulders tense, his gaze flicking to his phone. Maybe he knew where Evans was. I started toward him, dodging a woman who nearly stepped on my foot.
"Hey, Nate," I said, stopping beside him. "Any idea where Evans is? I've got his gift, and I need to talk to him."
He pocketed his phone, his expression guarded. "He's… busy. Big night, lots of moving parts."
"Too busy for his own party?" I asked, frowning. "What's going on?"
"Nothing you need to worry about," he said, but his tone was off, like he was holding back. "Just hang tight, he'll show."
"Fine," I said, frustrated. "But if you see him, tell him I'm looking."
"Will do," he said, his eyes already back on the crowd.
I turned away, my nerves fraying. I needed to find Evans, say what I'd been practicing: You've given me a home, a chance. I'm falling for you. But his absence, Madeline's barbs, and Nate's evasiveness were shaking my resolve.
I grabbed another tray, this time, hors d'oeuvres, to keep moving. "Try the shrimp?" I offered to a couple by the dance floor.
The man took one, barely nodding. "Service here's slow," he said to his date, loud enough for me to hear.
I forced a smile, moving on. A woman waved me over, her diamond bracelet flashing. "These are cold," she said, spitting a shrimp into a napkin. "Get me something fresh."
"I'll let the kitchen know," I said, my jaw tight. I headed toward the kitchen, but Madeline intercepted me again, her eyes glinting with malice.
"Still playing waitress?" she said, snatching an hors d'oeuvre from my tray. "You're not fooling anyone, Vivian. You don't belong here."
"I'm just helping," I shot back, my voice low. "Evans invited me."
"Evans pities you," she said, her smile cruel. "Don't mistake that for affection."
Her words stung, but I held her gaze. "I'm not here to cause trouble."
"Then don't," she said, turning away with a dismissive flick of her hand.
I dumped the tray in the kitchen, my hands shaking. Clara caught me as I came out. "Ignore her," she said, squeezing my arm. "You're doing great."
"Doesn't feel like it," I muttered, rubbing my pocket where Bella's clip sat. I needed Evans, needed to know I wasn't just a fool for hoping.
A murmur rippled through the crowd, heads turning toward the grand staircase. I followed their gaze, my heart lifting. Evans stood at the top, his suit sharp, his smile practiced but tense. This was my chance. I started toward him, my hand on the pen, ready to pull him aside.
Then I saw her.
A woman stood beside him, her arm linked with his. She was stunning, tall, poised, her black dress clinging to every curve. Her face stopped my breath: Bella's eyes, Bella's jawline, but hardened, her playful braids gone, replaced by sleek waves. My knees wobbled, the room narrowing to a pinprick.
"Everyone," Evans said, his voice booming, "I want you to meet someone special. This is Bella, my partner."
The tray slipped from my hands, crashing to the floor. Glass shattered, champagne soaking my shoes. I grabbed the bar, my legs giving out, as Bella's gaze locked on mine. Her eyes were cold, hostile, like I was a stranger she despised. My sister, alive, glaring at me with a hate I didn't understand.
"Vivian!" Clara rushed over, grabbing my arm. "What's wrong?"
I couldn't speak, my throat locked. Madeline's laugh rang out, sharp and mocking. "Such grace," she called, stepping closer. "Someone clean this up."
Nate was at my side now, his voice urgent. "Vivian, talk to me. What's happening?"
I stared at Bella, descending with Evans, her smile sharp as a blade. "She is my sister…" I whispered, my voice breaking. "She is supposed to be dead."