I had once considered finding him, even entertaining the humiliating thought of trying to win him back.
But in the end, I had let go.
I left the capital, assuming he was still toiling away at his career. To my surprise, he, too, had returned to Bellemont.
"Daddy, Briar wants shrimp," the sweet little girl piped up, her voice as delicate as her features.
So, he had a child?
Had he also gotten married?
Had he married Amara?
Amara’s voice cut through the thoughts, "Come here, Briar. Mommy will get you some shrimp."
She shot me a glance, one laced with a challenge, before returning her attention to Gabriel.
"Old classmate, it’s been ten years, hasn’t it?"
"I heard you got into Ivory Heights Academy back then. How did you go from that to being a waiter?"
With a flourish, Amara placed the shrimp on the little girl’s plate and then turned her gaze back to me, her expression dripping with disdain.
"You’re almost thirty, yet you’re still just a waiter? Isn’t that a little embarrassing? At least you could’ve become a supervisor."
Her words hung in the air, followed by the laughter of those around us.
Everyone in the room, just like ten years ago, instinctively fell in line behind Amara.
Their logic was simple: whoever Amara mocked, they would follow suit, eager to gain some favor in exchange for future benefits.
Back in school, those benefits might have been something as trivial as a pack of cigarettes she carelessly tossed aside.
Now, they likely hoped for something as valuable as a respectable job.
For the sake of survival, I couldn’t entirely fault their behavior.
I smiled, the gesture as cool as ever, and placed the bottle of wine down. My eyes met Amara’s.
"I’m just here to drop off a bottle of wine. I hope you all enjoy your evening," I said, my tone smooth and poised.
With that, I turned to leave.
I had briefly entertained the idea of revealing my true identity, of putting this spoiled girl in her place.
But a seasoned businesswoman knows better. Grace and self-control always trump childish antics.
Such petty behavior wasn’t worth my time.
As for Gabriel… I didn’t spare him a second glance.
It was pointless.
He was married now, with a child. What was the point of lingering on the past? Why entangle myself in it any longer?
But then, a voice cut through the air.
"Cassia, Amara didn’t say you could leave."
I turned to see Matthews Whitlock.
He had risen to his feet, as always, Amara’s faithful lackey. Ten years ago, he had been the same, and here he was now, still playing his part.
His position near the door was no accident. It was the place of someone who existed only to run errands for her at a moment’s notice.
Amara stood, too, pushing herself up from the table with a grace that still made her seem untouchable.
"Cassia, it's been ten years," she said, her voice dripping with a feigned sweetness. "Since you've come this far to our reunion, why not join us for a while?"
I smiled faintly, my gaze cool.
"I still have work to do," I replied, my voice calm.
"I’ll do my best to become a supervisor before I turn thirty."
Another round of uproarious laughter followed as if I had just told the most absurd joke.
I couldn’t understand what they found so funny.
Was being a supervisor at Midnight Reverie really something to laugh at?
Sure, after all the deductions for insurance and housing, it left me with about 20,000 a month. Add the thirteenth-month salary and benefits, and it wasn’t a laughable sum by any means.
Was that truly so ridiculous?
I took a closer look at them.
Their clothes were neat and polished, sure, but they were nothing more than off-the-rack items, the kind anyone could pick up at a mall.
The car keys scattered across the table were mostly for mid- to low-end vehicles.
Yet, despite it all, their eyes gleamed with a smug superiority as though they owned the world.
Where did that inflated sense of accomplishment come from?
Nyla Merrick, catching my glance at the car keys, sneered with a mixture of pride and disdain.
"Cassia, don’t tell me you don’t even have a car?" she mocked. "My Ford may only cost a little over a hundred thousand, but at least it’s got four wheels. Are you still riding around on that electric scooter?"
I met her gaze, unfazed. "Oh, I use shared bikes," I replied calmly.
My high-rise apartment was just a stone’s throw away from the club, and biking was often quicker and more convenient than any car.
Laughter followed once again, the same hollow sound as before.
It seemed like, without me, they had no one left to mock.
After all, they were all just Amara’s lackeys; they couldn’t very well ridicule one another.
Nyla turned to Gabriel with a smirk, her words dripping with false sweetness.
"Gabriel, you made a wise choice breaking up with her back then. If you hadn’t, you might be sitting on a bike, crying your eyes out right now."
