The charity gala that evening was a gathering of the city's elite.
Grace entered on Damien's arm.
She wore a midnight-blue gown that Damien had picked out for her, understated yet luxurious.
But even so, in a room full of people vying for attention, she still seemed somewhat quiet.
She wasn't used to these kinds of events.
As Ethan's wife, she had attended similar parties before.
Back then, she would wear an out-of-season dress and shrink into a corner, watching Ethan parade Lilian around the room while people pointed and whispered about the "frumpy housewife who was an embarrassment to be seen with."
"Mr. Clarke!"
A few business tycoons surrounded them, and Damien had no choice but to go and mingle.
"Wait for me here. Don't wander off."
Damien squeezed her hand. "If anyone gives you a hard time, just throw a drink on them. I'll take the blame."
Grace smiled. "I know. Go on."
The moment Damien left, an elegant figure glided over, holding a glass of champagne.
"Ms. Hart, we meet again."
Amelia had changed into a stunning, low-cut red gown. She looked like a blazing fire, absolutely radiant.
"Miss Cross," Grace greeted politely.
"Mr. Clarke is so thoughtful and attentive to you."
Amelia swirled her drink, her eyes feigning envy but sharp as daggers. "But I suppose it's to be expected. After all the suffering you've been through, Ms. Hart, your life is finally sweet."
Grace frowned slightly.
The words sounded nice, but on closer inspection, they were full of barbs.

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