A vicious bitterness that twisted her features as she stared at Clover like she wanted to rip the dress off her body and throw her out with her bare hands.
Beside her, Ashley followed her gaze and let out a low, amused hum.
"Well," Ashley murmured, lifting her glass, "so that's why you've been glaring at the door all night."
Kate said nothing.
She just kept staring.
Her nails tightened around the stem of her wine glass.
Across the ballroom, Clover shifted uneasily, trying not to look as uncomfortable as she felt.
And then her eyes wandered.
At the far corner of the hall, leaning lazily against one of the tall pillars, stood Matthew.
He looked perfectly at ease, one shoulder against the marble, one hand tucked into his pocket.
And on his face…
Was a smirk.
Not a warm one.
It was the kind of smirk that made it look like he was watching a show only he understood.
Like he was already waiting for the chaos to begin.
Clover frowned faintly.
Why did he look so entertained?
Before she could think more about it, movement through the crowd caught her attention.
A man dressed in dark royal attire, embroidered with silver and gold, made his way toward them with the easy confidence of someone who knew this entire evening revolved around him.
Miguel.
The birthday boy.
There was a charming smile on his face, but Clover could feel the edge beneath it immediately.
His gaze met Dylan's.
And something cold passed between them.
A silent clash.
Clover noticed it at once.
There was something between them—something deeper than simple dislike.
Miguel stopped in front of them, his smile widening just a little.
"Dylan."
He extended his hand.
Dylan looked at it.
Then looked at Miguel.
And did absolutely nothing.
The silence that followed was sharp.
Miguel's smile faltered for the briefest second before he let out a quiet chuckle and smoothly lowered his hand as if he had expected nothing less.
Then he turned to Clover.
"And you must be the woman causing all the whispers tonight."
His eyes glinted with interest as he extended his hand to her.
Clover hesitated, then slowly placed her hand in his.
Miguel's fingers curled around hers lightly, and he smiled.
"A pleasure."
"Thank you," Clover replied politely.
Miguel glanced back at Dylan.
"If you were going to come to my ball looking like someone forced you here," he drawled, "why come at all?"
Dylan's face remained unreadable.
"Because I couldn't miss to ruin it."
Miguel laughed.
A real laugh this time.
"Oh, that sounds promising."
His gaze flickered to Clover again.
"And you came with a woman."
The amusement in his voice sharpened.
"That's… new."
Dylan's eyes hardened.
"Watch your mouth, Miguel."
Miguel lifted both hands slightly in mock surrender, still smiling.
"I'm only saying what everyone else is already thinking."
He tilted his head, studying Clover with the kind of curiosity that made her uncomfortable.
Miguel seemed pleased by that.
Then he gave Clover one last charming smile.
"Enjoy the night."
His eyes returned to Dylan.
"Try not to start a war before the cake is cut."
And with that, he walked away.
Clover let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding.
"He seems…" she began.
"Annoying?" Dylan supplied.
She glanced at him.
"I was going to say sweet."
Dylan's mouth curved faintly.
"You sure don't have an eye."
"At least he is better than you" Clover muttered.
Dylan looked away, his gaze sweeping the ballroom.
"I have something to do."
Her brows lifted. "Now?"
"Yes."
Before she could ask more, he added in a calm, indifferent tone, "Stay here."
And just like that, he walked away.
Clover blinked.
He is really dangerous.
So mysterious.
She stared after him as he disappeared into the crowd, heading toward a cluster of nobles and political figures already waiting for him.
"Unbelievable," she muttered under her breath.
Left standing alone in the middle of a ballroom full of powerful supernatural beings, Clover suddenly became far more aware of just how human she was.
She folded her hands in front of her, trying to act natural.
Trying not to look abandoned.
It didn't take long before a few elegantly dressed women drifted toward her.
Then a few more.
Then even more.
Within moments, Clover found herself surrounded.
"Your dress is beautiful."
"Silver suits you so well."
"Are you really Lord Dylan's woman?"
"You're human, aren't you?"
"Wow… I didn't expect you to be this pretty."
Their voices came one after another, sweet and curious and overly friendly.
Clover forced a small smile.
Not knowing the proper words to use.
Then the crowd shifted.
And the warmth vanished.
Kate stepped forward.
Ashley at her side.
The women around Clover immediately grew quiet, sensing the tension.
Kate's lips curled into a cold smile.
"So," she said, her voice dripping with venom, "this is the woman."
Clover frowned. "Excuse me?"
Before she could react, Kate lifted the glass in her hand—
And poured the wine straight over Clover's head.
The cold liquid splashed across her hair, her face, her silver dress, staining the fabric in deep red.
A collective gasp rippled through the women around them.
Clover froze.
For a second, she couldn't move.
Kate let out a sharp laugh.
"How dare you?" she hissed. "How dare a lowly human think she can steal what belongs to me?"
Clover blinked, stunned.
"What?"
Ashley folded her arms, smirking from the side like she was enjoying every second.
Kate stepped closer, eyes blazing.
"You heard me."
Clover's heart hammered.
Was this… real?
A tiny, absurd part of her brain actually thought:
Is this the kind of thing that only happens in movies?
Because there was no way this was happening to her.
"I think there's a misunderstanding," Clover said quickly, trying to keep her voice steady. "I didn't steal anyone—"
"Shut up!"
Kate's hand shot forward.
She grabbed a fistful of Clover's hair.
Clover cried out in pain as Kate yanked her forward so hard her balance broke.
The women around them gasped again, but none of them stepped in.
Not one.
"Let go!" Clover hissed, grabbing at Kate's wrist.
Kate only pulled harder.
"How bold," she sneered. "A human trash like you, dressed up and paraded into a noble ball, actually thinking you can stand beside him?"
Pain burned across Clover's scalp.
Tears sprang to her eyes.
Desperately—
She looked for Dylan.
Her gaze found him across the ballroom.
He was standing exactly where he had gone, speaking calmly with several important-looking nobles and political figures.
And he was facing her direction.
He saw everything.
For one wild second, relief rushed through her.
She waited for him to come help her out.
Dylan didn't move.
He kept talking.
His expression didn't change.
Clover's breath caught in her throat.
The pain in her scalp suddenly felt smaller than the ache that spread through her chest.
Kate followed her gaze and laughed.
"Oh?" she mocked. "You're looking at him?"
She leaned closer.
"Did you think he'd save you?"
The women around them snickered.
Clover clenched her teeth.
"It's not what you think, there's nothing going on between us." She said trying to settle the misunderstanding.
Kate's eyes narrowed.
"Nothing?"
"Yes" Clover said.
Ashley tilted her head.
"Wait…" she said slowly, eyes gleaming with cruel delight. "Aren't you just… a maid?"
The words dropped like a stone into still water.
The women around Clover stared.
"A maid?"
"No way."
"Seriously?"
Clover's cheeks burned.
She wanted the floor to open and swallow her whole.
Kate's smile widened, triumphant now.
"A maid," she repeated, as if savoring the word. "That's all you are?"
The women who had been flattering Clover moments ago recoiled as if they had been tricked.
One scoffed.
"I thought she was someone important."
"So she's just a servant?"
"How shameless."
"A common human maid wearing a dress like that?"
"Know your place."
Their words came faster.
Sharper.
Each one slicing deeper than the last.
Clover's throat tightened.
She hated them.
She hated this place.
Kate gave her hair another cruel yank.
"If you're a maid," she sneered, "then act like one."
Clover winced.
Then suddenly—
Kate's hand was ripped away from her.
The force was so abrupt Kate stumbled back with a startled gasp.
A cold silence crashed over the group.
Dylan stood there.
No one had even noticed him approach.
His face was calm.
Too calm.
But the air around him had turned icy.
He stepped between Clover and Kate, his gaze fixed on Kate with quiet, lethal disdain.
"Who," he said softly, "said you could touch my things?"
The entire group went still.
Clover froze behind him.
His things?
Kate's face paled.
"My Lord, I—I was only trying to discipline the maid—"
Dylan's eyes shifted to her.
That alone was enough to make her voice falter.
"Since when," he asked, each word colder than the last, "did you get the right to discipline my maid?"
Kate's lips parted.
No sound came out.
Dylan took one step closer.
The pressure in the air became unbearable.
"Even if she is a maid," he continued, voice smooth and terrifying, "she is mine."
Clover's breath caught.
The women around them went rigid.
"And I don't recall giving anyone permission," Dylan finished, "to lay hands on what belongs to me."
Kate looked like she might faint.
Ashley, recovering faster, stepped forward with a strained smile.
"My Lord, Kate was only upset. There's no need to make this into—"
Dylan turned his head.
Just slightly.
The look he gave Ashley was enough.
She stopped speaking instantly.
All color drained from her face.
"Who," Dylan said, his tone low and dangerous, "gave you permission to interfere in my conversation?"
Ashley took a shaky step back.
"I… I didn't mean—"
"Then be silent."
The words landed like a slap.
Ashley lowered her head immediately, fear flashing in her eyes.
Clover stared.
Even Kate looked stunned now.
Moments ago, she had been standing there so certain of herself, so confident in whatever connection she thought she had to Dylan.
Now she looked small.
Humiliated.
Like she had just been publicly crushed.
Kate's eyes darted from Dylan to Clover, disbelief and fury warring on her face.
She had expected him to protect her.
Or at least tolerate her.
Instead, he had humiliated her in front of everyone.
For a maid.
Clover's stomach twisted and suddenly, the pieces in her mind shifted into place.
Kate's jealousy.
Was that it?
Was this why he brought me here?
To make her jealous?
To use me?
Her chest tightened so hard it hurt.
Kate's eyes burned with hatred as she took a step back, her dignity in ruins.
Then, unable to bear the humiliation any longer, she turned and stormed away.
Ashley hurried after her.
The crowd began to disperse, nervous and whispering.
No one dared say another word.
Clover stood there, soaked in wine, hair disheveled, chest rising and falling.
She didn't look at Dylan.
If she did, she might slap him.
Or cry.
Without a word, she turned and hurried away.
Until she was almost storming through the ballroom.
Ignoring the stares.
She shoved past the doors and out into the long corridor beyond the hall, her heels striking sharply against the polished floor.
Her vision blurred.
Her throat burned.
She didn't know if she was more angry or humiliated.
Maybe both.
"Clover."
She kept walking.
"Clover."
His footsteps came behind her.
She walked faster.
Then suddenly—
A hand caught her arm.
Clover stopped so abruptly her body jerked.
She turned around sharply.
Dylan stood before her, his grip firm around her wrist.
"Let go of me."
His eyes searched her face.
"Clover—"
"Don't."
Her voice shook.
Not with fear.
With rage.
Take my back.
"Take me back to where I belong " she said.