Chapter 28

Serena's POV

My stomach knots for a split second. Of course they'd pull a stunt like this. I notice Nina and Evelyn in the distance, smirking. Even from here, I can tell they're thrilled to see me cornered.

The staffer tries to be polite, but I see the judgment flicker in his eyes when people start whispering around us.

"Isn't she some gold-digger, sneaking into events?"

"Word is she's shamelessly crashing. I heard she was kicked out of the Sinclair Family years ago."

My chest tightens, memories of all the past humiliations boiling up. I clench the stem of the champagne glass, hold my head high, and face the staffer calmly.

"Of course," I reply, carefully controlling my voice. "I can show you proof."

The crowd is gathering, waiting for me to crumble. From the corner of my eye, I see Ian crossing his arms, a smug grin creeping onto his face. Nina and Evelyn hover close, practically salivating at the idea of me getting tossed out.

Suddenly, someone speaks up behind me.

"Hey, aren't you Ian's fiancée? Or ex-fiancée or something?"

I spin around and lock eyes with a guy who looks vaguely familiar-he's one of those guys who was chatting with Ian earlier. He scans me from head to toe, confusion written all over his face.

He mutters under his breath, "If she's with Ian, why's she standing here alone?" Then, out loud, he says, "Hey, I'll go get Ian. He's right over there."

I can't help a sarcastic smirk. These idiots think I only got in because of Ian. They believe he's my golden ticket to these fancy circles.

And, of course, I hear the whispering ripple through the crowd.

"Didn't she nearly ruin Ian's life back then?"

"Yeah, that accident, or whatever it was-she's the reason everything went south, right?"

"She's got a nerve showing up here."

I clench my jaw, forcing myself not to snap back.

The staffer remains by my side, smiling at me as though the moment I fail to produce my invitation, he'll switch faces and throw me out in the most humiliating way possible.

Before I can even reach into my clutch, that same guy reappears-this time dragging Ian Whitmore by the sleeve. Ian's brows lift in fake surprise when he sees me.

"Oh, Serena," he says, loud enough for the entire crowd to hear. "I thought you weren't feeling well tonight, so you said you'd skip this event."

His tone is pure performance. He's clearly trying to distance himself, making sure everyone knows I'm not with him. I swallow the anger that's bubbling up in my chest and meet his gaze with cold disinterest.

"How sweet of you to check on me. But I never said I wasn't coming."

That's all I manage to say before the staffer cuts in.

"Mr. Whitmore, is she with you?" he asks. "We've had some inquiries about Ms. Sinclair's invitation."

Ian hesitates for a split second. Then, in a syrupy voice, he pretends not to know my status here.

"Well, I didn't bring her as a plus-one," he announces to everyone within earshot. "So she might be here... on her own?"

All around me, people murmur and snicker. One guy outright laughs, a high-pitched sneer that sets my teeth on edge.

"Seriously? She just snuck in here?"

"Wow, talk about desperate!"

"I knew she was shameless, but this is next-level."

My blood roars, but I keep my composure. The staffer clears his throat again, like he's giving me one more chance before he calls in security. I gently set my glass on a nearby tray, open my clutch, and pull out a gold-edged invitation.

"Actually," I say, letting my voice carry, "I have my own invitation. Could you please verify it?"

The hush that falls over the crowd is almost deafening. Everyone leans in, jaws nearly dropping to the floor. The staffer inspects the gold card, comparing it with his guest list. As soon as he confirms it, his entire demeanor does a 180. He bows slightly and says,

"My apologies, Ms. Serena Sinclair. There appears to have been a misunderstanding. Welcome, and enjoy your evening."

A chorus of uncomfortable mutterings washes through the crowd. Ian goes stiff, and his eyes flick to Nina and Evelyn, who look like they've swallowed sour lemons. The black invitations in their hands suddenly look cheap compared to my gleaming gold one.

I let my gaze land on them for a second longer, savoring their shock. Then I turn back to the staffer.

"No worries," I reply with an icy calm. "I'm sure it's an easy mistake to make."

I walk past Nina and Evelyn, catching their furious expressions. Nina's lips are pressed so tight they're almost white. Evelyn clenches her phone like she wants to crush it. I pause by them just long enough to toss a small, mocking smile their way.

"Hope you're both having fun," I say softly, then continue on.

Behind me, I hear Ian trying to salvage the situation by throwing Evelyn under the bus. He's muttering something about how she must have messed up or tried to cause trouble. Nina tries to chime in, but Ian warns her to keep her distance if she doesn't want to get dragged down, too.

The ripple of movement at the entrance caught everyone's attention. Conversation died mid-sentence as new arrivals commanded the room's focus. The shift in atmosphere was instant-from the casual buzz of Manhattan's elite to a silence heavy with anticipation.

"Is that Lucas?" The whispers rustled through the crowd. In Manhattan's upper circles, the mere mention of Harrington International Holdings stirred envy and awe. The name carried weight that even money couldn't buy - true old-world power.

I watched from my position near the corner as Ian Whitmore made his move. He strode forward with the confidence of someone who thought they held all the cards, extending his hand to Miles with a practiced smile. "Mr. Harrington, what an honor to see you again." The way he preened, you'd think he was the guest of honor himself.

Miles furrowed his brow in confusion at Ian's enthusiastic greeting, mechanically returning the handshake before hurrying to catch up with the group moving ahead.

Ian remained rooted to the spot, savoring what he believed had been a meaningful exchange with "Lucas," a self-satisfied smile playing across his features.

I watched him with a mixture of pity and contempt. His complete inability to read social cues or pick up on the obvious dismissal was almost painful to witness. Such utter obliviousness, I thought, shaking my head slightly. The man's foolishness knew no bounds, and I couldn't help but feel a twinge of sadness at how pathetically unaware he was of his own desperate behavior.

The party gradually resumed its rhythm, though now with an undercurrent of excitement. Ian had positioned himself at the center of a small crowd, basking in their attention as he regaled them with tales of his supposed close connection to the Harrington family. "Of course, Lucas and I often discuss business over dinner," he was saying, conveniently glossing over which 'Lucas' he meant.

"A police officer rubbing shoulders with Lucas Harrington?" His voice dripped with condescension. "Now that's something you don't see every day." He paused, clearly expecting me to either defend myself or show appropriate appreciation for his attention.