Chapter 301: Maybe One Hundred Two Thousand Drinks?

A murmur of excited, wealthy chatter instantly filled the hall as the patrons stood up to stretch their legs and refill their champagne flutes.

Aria exhaled a long breath, her heart still doing gymnastics against her ribs from Damien’s public, very expensive declaration of love. She turned her head, scanning the rows behind them.

Her eyes zeroed in on the spot where Zoe had been sitting.

It was empty.

Aria frowned, her emerald eyes darting through the mingling crowd. The auction for the fifty percent block of Vale Entertainment was happening immediately after this break.

’Where the hell did Zoe go?’

Before Aria could abandon Damien to go look for her, the crowd parted.

Diana wheeled up to them. She was being pushed by a random waiter who was clearly just waiting to go on his smoke break.

But it wasn’t Diana that caught Aria’s attention.

Walking gracefully beside the wheelchair was Vittoria Rossi.

Aria paused, offering an awkward but polite smile as the Italian millionaire approached. Up close, Vittoria was undeniably breathtaking. She was tall—even with Aria wearing her highest stilettos, Vittoria easily towered over her.

Aria subtly took the woman in from head to toe. Vittoria was draped in custom, tailored emerald-green designer wear. She radiated an effortless, elegant, old-world European beauty.

’I can see why he liked her,’ Aria admitted to herself, swallowing a tiny, instinctual spike of insecurity. ’They definitely would have made a gorgeous, expensive couple.’

As if sensing the exact trajectory of his wife’s thoughts, Damien moved closer to her, his hand resting possessively on her lower back.

Vittoria stopped in front of them.

"Aria," Vittoria greeted, her voice a smooth, melodic hum. She offered Aria a warm, genuine smile. "Congratulations on your marriage."

"Thank you," Aria replied, maintaining her pleasant, composed demeanor.

Vittoria was sweet and charming, but Aria wasn’t blind. She didn’t miss the way Vittoria’s eyes kept subtly darting toward Damien. She saw the lingering longing in the woman’s gaze, looking at him as if she were desperately hoping he would glance her way so their eyes could meet, even just for a fraction of a second.

Vittoria still loved him.

Aria wasn’t going to hold it against her. It wasn’t easy to fall out of love, and Damien was a man who permanently rewired your brain chemistry. But Aria also wasn’t stupid. She would treat Vittoria like a very colorful, exotic frog in the rainforest—beautiful to look at, but poisonous to let too close to her husband.

Aria’s eyes caught a flash of light from Vittoria’s left hand.

"Oh, your ring is stunning," Aria noted politely. "Are you engaged?"

Vittoria’s face lit up with a soft smile. "Yes. I am getting married soon. Unfortunately, my fiancé had business to take care of tonight, so he couldn’t accompany me."

As she delivered the news, Vittoria stole one last, hopeful glance at Damien. She waited for a reaction. A flinch. A clenching of his jaw. A spark of old jealousy.

Damien didn’t even blink. He stared at her with the blank, unbothered enthusiasm of a man watching paint dry.

Vittoria’s smile faltered, a sharp pang of disappointment piercing her chest.

"You both should attend the wedding," Vittoria offered, trying to keep her tone light and gracious. "We would be honored to have you."

"We will be busy that day," Damien answered instantly, his voice a flat, deadpan rejection that left no room for negotiation.

Vittoria blinked, taken aback. "I haven’t even mentioned the date yet, Damien."

"And we will still be busy," Damien shut it down. He didn’t care about politeness. "This conversation is boring, and my wife needs to eat. Excuse us."

Before Vittoria or Diana could utter a word in protest, Damien turned and guided Aria away, his hand firm on her waist.

"It was nice to meet you!" Aria managed to call back over her shoulder.

Vittoria stood frozen, watching them walk away.

As they moved down the aisle, Vittoria saw Damien lean his head down to whisper something in Aria’s ear. She watched his hand, the one that had been resting on Aria’s lower back, casually slide down to cup her ass and give her cheek a firm, playful squeeze in the middle of the crowded room.

Aria immediately pulled away with a sharp glare, muttering something back at him. Damien threw his head back, letting out a rich, genuine laugh.

Vittoria couldn’t hear what they were saying. But she watched Aria shoot her laughing husband a middle finger before rushing away toward the restrooms, leaving Damien smirking after her.

Vittoria’s breath hitched. Her eyes suddenly pricked with hot, stinging tears.

’Even after all these years?’ She felt so incredibly stupid. She was engaged to a man she thought was the love of her life, and yet here she was, standing in a ballroom crying over an ex.

But seeing them together... it shattered every illusion she had left. Damien wasn’t just married; he had fundamentally changed. She had no idea he was capable of being that playful. She had never known the man who would pull a public stunt to have a romantic love note read aloud to the entire world just to make his wife smile.

She had to admit it. She was very jealous.

"It’s just a phase," Diana hissed from her wheelchair, glaring at Aria’s retreating back with pure venom. "She’s a cheap, D-list nobody. Soon Damien will realize who is actually better for him."

Vittoria slowly turned her head, looking down at the bitter, delusional woman in the wheelchair.

Vittoria didn’t share Diana’s thoughts.

"She is intelligent, and she is incredibly hardworking," Vittoria defended softly but firmly. "I have heard of her work ethic in the industry. And I know Damien. He would never marry a woman without properly thinking it through."

Vittoria looked back at Damien, who was currently glaring at a waiter who had almost spilled the plate he was preparing for his wife.

"You should be happy for him, Diana," Vittoria said, her voice laced with a bittersweet closure. "He is no longer alone. And there is an angel blocking him from his demons now."

"You don’t know the Aria I know," Diana scoffed in denial.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the auction hall, Aria was having a full-blown meltdown.

The fifteen-minute intermission was rapidly ticking down. The 50% shares of Vale Entertainment were up next, and her proxy bidder was MIA!

Aria power-walked into the women’s restroom, pushing the door open.

"Zoe?" Aria called out.

The bathroom was empty.

Aria cursed under her breath, speed-walking back out into the corridor.

Standing a respectful ten feet away, staring blankly at a classical oil painting on the wall, was Richard.

"Richard," Aria demanded, her heart hammering against her ribs. "Did you see a blonde in a pink tweed skirt come by here?"

"I did not, Ma’am," Richard deadpanned, not breaking his gaze from the painting. Damien had ordered him to play dumb and let Aria execute her plans, and Richard was an operative who followed his orders to the letter.

"Where did you go, Zoe?" Aria quietly groaned, pulling her phone out of her clutch.

She dialed Zoe’s number for what felt like the one-hundredth time. It rang, and rang, and rang.

Aria pressed the phone hard against her ear, pacing the corridor.

And then, she heard it.

It wasn’t coming from the phone. It was a familiar giggle echoing from behind the door adjacent to the women’s room.

The men’s room.

Aria didn’t even hesitate. She shoved the door open and marched right into the men’s restroom.

"Zoe!" Aria gasped.

Aria stopped dead in her tracks.

Pinned against the sleek, dark slate tiles of the bathroom wall was her best friend. Zoe’s platinum blonde wig was slightly askew. Her hands were tangled in the crisp white collar of the cater-waiter from earlier, and they were aggressively, messily making out.

’Wait, the cover!’

"Tiffany!" Aria shrieked at the top of her lungs.

The waiter jumped as if he had been electrocuted. He ripped himself away from Zoe, his eyes wide with panic as he fumbled to buckle his suit pants. He didn’t even look at Aria; he just bolted, sprinting out of the bathroom like a bat out of hell.

Zoe stood against the tile, swaying on her platform heels. She let out a loud hiccup, a sloppy, unfocused grin plastered across her face.

"Oh, hey babe!" Zoe slurred happily, raising her hands to the ceiling. "Some... sometimes... girls just wanna have fun!"

She tried to take a step forward, her ankle rolling instantly.

"Whoa!" Aria lunged, catching Zoe by the shoulders just a fraction of a second before her best friend face-planted onto the bathroom floor.

Aria hauled Zoe upright, her nose wrinkling as the stench of champagne hit her face.

"Zoe," Aria gasped, staring into her best friend’s glassy blue contact lenses. "How much did you drink?!"

Zoe rested her forehead against Aria’s shoulder. She let out a hiccup, giggling softly into the fabric of Aria’s dress.

"One hundred two thousand," Zoe slurred confidently.

"Oh God," Aria groaned.