“You don’t need to prepare a gift,” Adrian continued. “Just being there is enough. Dress elegantly, but don’t outshine Vivian. She loves being the center of attention, and it’s her birthday.”
His voice softened again, but Elena rubbed her arms against the cold crawling through her veins.
She had always known Adrian’s relationship with Vivian wasn’t ordinary, but she never imagined her marriage would collapse in such a humiliating way.
She excused herself with a quiet “I’m tired” and went upstairs.
The next day, at Vivian’s birthday gala.
Adrian presented her with a diamond necklace worth tens of millions. Elena’s expression didn’t change as she watched, though her chest tightened.
The diamonds sparkled so brilliantly that the crowd gasped.
“Mr. Shaw is as generous as ever,” someone sighed. “Every year he never misses Vivian’s birthday.”
“Yes, last year he gave her a custom crown. She looked just like a princess.”
Vivian blushed shyly.
“Don’t tease me. Adrian and I are just friends.”
“Adrian, I told you not to give me such expensive gifts. Elena already misunderstands our relationship—I don’t want to cause trouble in your marriage.”
Adrian glanced back. Elena stood with folded arms, her face blank. His jaw tightened.
“She won’t misunderstand,” he said curtly. “Elena knows better.”
The crowd read between the lines. Here, in Vivian’s presence, Elena was nothing.
Whispers floated:
“She should count herself lucky marrying into the Shaw family. And she still causes drama?”
“Exactly. If Vivian really wanted Mr. Shaw, Elena wouldn’t even be in the picture.”
Elena lifted a glass from a passing tray, ignoring the words like buzzing flies. Standing there quietly, she looked like a painting.
But Adrian’s displeasure grew—especially when he noticed other men’s eyes drifting toward her.
Vivian swayed over, champagne in hand.
“Elena, your birthday’s coming soon too, isn’t it? What will Adrian get you? Tell us so we can all be envious.”
“Why not host a gala of your own? We’d love to celebrate with you.”
The guests chimed in mockingly.
“With gifts worth tens of millions for Vivian, his wife must get something even grander.”
“A gala? Who would attend?”
Their ridicule lingered in the air.
Elena said nothing, but Adrian stepped forward, placing a hand on her shoulder.
“Of course, my wife deserves the best,” he declared. “But surprises should remain surprises. You’ll all see on her birthday.”
“As for a gala, no need. Elena prefers things quiet—we’ll celebrate at home.”
Then, lowering his voice so only she could hear, Adrian warned, “Don’t ruin the mood. Tonight is Vivian’s night. And remember—I told you not to steal her spotlight.”
Elena’s gaze flicked to Vivian in her champagne-colored gown. Elegant makeup, delicate styling—yet it all felt false.
She downed her wine in one gulp and looked Adrian in the eye.
“Stealing her spotlight?” she said coolly.
“Didn’t your thirty-million-dollar necklace already give her all the spotlight?”
