The invitation was a trap.
Elena knew it the moment Ava's name flashed across the glossy card. A birthday gala at the Grand Seraphim Hotel, five-star venue, celebrity guest list, cameras, and plenty of fake smiles. It wasn't a celebration. It was a stage.
And Elena? She was supposed to be the fool.
But not this time.
She walked into the ballroom draped in a black satin gown that clung to her curves like it was custom-made by the devil himself. A high slit revealed long, toned legs, and the back was dipped dangerously low. Her hair was swept to the side in elegant waves, makeup sharp enough to cut.
The room went quiet.
Gasps, murmurs, stares.
Even the spotlight dimmed compared to her.
At the center of the room, Ava turned slowly, her champagne flute trembling slightly in her grasp. She was dressed like a princess, but Elena? She looked like a queen.
"Happy birthday," Elena said with a smile that didn't reach her eyes.
Ava forced a laugh. "Didn't expect you'd show. I assumed you'd be too busy chasing boardrooms."
"Or maybe I just wanted to see how you're aging."
Gasps again. Ava's smile cracked.
The night carried on, but the energy had shifted. Every time Ava tried to draw attention, Elena stole it back. Every photo, every toast, every whisper in the crowd, drifted toward the woman in black.
Then came the final blow.
"May I have this dance?" a familiar voice asked behind her.
Elena turned, and faced Nathan.
He offered his hand, his eyes raking her in like a man seeing something he lost and didn't know how badly he wanted back.
She hesitated, just long enough for everyone to look.
Then she smiled sweetly and placed her hand in his.
Ava's face turned to stone as Elena glided to the dance floor with the man who was supposed to be her prize.
As they danced, Nathan leaned in. "You've changed."
Elena's voice was ice. "You haven't."