The ballroom's music swelled, violins weaving through the air as couples glided across the polished floor. Lena stood by Adrian's side, her earlier humiliation still burning at the edges of her mind. Clara's laughter echoed faintly in her ears.
She gripped her clutch tighter. No. Not tonight. She wouldn't let Clara write the story of who she was.
"Dance with me," Adrian said suddenly.
Lena blinked. "What?"
His hand was already extended, calm, assured. "It's expected. Don't make me repeat myself."
Heat rushed to her cheeks as she placed her hand in his. He led her onto the dance floor, his touch steady at her waist, guiding her as if the music bent to his will. Lena followed, every nerve alight. The murmurs around them swirled—people watching, judging, whispering.
And then, from the corner of her eye, Lena caught Clara watching too, her smile tight, her glass of champagne trembling just slightly.
Something bold stirred inside Lena.
She lifted her chin, allowing a genuine smile to curve her lips—not for the crowd, not even for Clara, but for herself. She wasn't going to shrink. Not tonight.
"You're smiling," Adrian murmured, his voice so close it brushed her ear.
"Maybe I have a reason to," she said, surprising herself with the steady tone.
His eyes flickered with something unreadable, but he said nothing more.
When the music ended, Adrian released her hand slowly, his gaze lingering an instant too long before he turned away to speak with a business partner. Lena exhaled, steadying herself.
That was when Clara struck again.
"Lovely performance," Clara said smoothly, stepping into Lena's path as though she owned the floor. "It takes courage to dance under so many eyes. You've… improved."
Her smile was sweet poison, designed to belittle. But this time, Lena didn't shrink. She tilted her head slightly, her own smile soft but sharp.
"Thank you, Clara. I suppose it comes naturally when one dances with a partner who actually leads."
The words slipped out before she could second-guess them, light enough to sound polite—but pointed enough to sting.
Clara's eyes widened just a fraction. For once, she was the one caught off guard.
Around them, a few guests chuckled discreetly, clearly catching Lena's implication. Adrian, across the room, lifted his gaze at the sound, his expression unreadable but his eyes sharper than before.
Clara recovered quickly, her lips curving again. "How witty. I see Adrian's influence is rubbing off on you."
Lena only smiled, choosing silence this time—because she had already won.
Clara's smile didn't reach her eyes as she stepped back, her nails digging into her champagne glass.
And for the first time, Lena felt it: the rush of victory, small but intoxicating.
She wasn't just surviving anymore. She was fighting back.