EMILIA Across the room, my sharp eyes caught the sight of Aveline. My breath hitched as I take in Aveline's presence—confident, radiant and wearing a dress that turned heads wherever she goes. The sight of Aveline in such stunning gown, left me momentarily stunned. How could someone like her command such attention and poise?

Unable to contain my irritation, I turn to my mother, and urgently whispered "Mother, we must speak to her, Now."

Mother, always one to seize an opportunity for influence, nods and follows me as we make our way across the room to Aveline. Our approach is deliberate, drawing the attention of nearby guests who subtly observe our interaction.

When we reach Aveline, she turns to greet us, her expression calm and composed. Despite my best efforts to appear imposing, Aveline doesn't show any scaredness at all. In fact, she seems entirely unbothered, standing tall and meeting our gazes with queit grace.

This only fuels my irritation, I expects her to be at least nervous or unsure, especially without the support of family by her side. Instead, Aveline look perfectly at ease, a stark contrast to my expectations.

"Aveline," I begin, forcing a tight smile. "It's... surprising to see you here tonight. You look very different from the last time I saw you."

Mother steps in, her voice smooth and honeyed, "Indeed, my dear. such a striking gown, and so bold of you to attend without your so called family. Tell me, how did you come to be involved with such a collaboration?"

Aveline, unshaken, smiled politely, how irritating of her and replied, "Miss Vivienne and I worked closely to create the designs you see tonight. It's been a rewarding experience, and I'm grateful for the opportunity to contribute to something so meaningful."

Her calm and poised response only make my irritation grow. I can feel the attention shifting towards Aveline, the guests murmuring in admiration for her confidence. No matter how much I tried to unsettle her, Aveline's composure holds strong, leaving me to stew silently in frustration.

AVELINE My patience is wearing thin. The sharp tone of Emilia and her mother's words grated on me, and their veiled insults felt more pointed by the moment. Finally, I sigh and ask bluntly, "What do you want?"

Marchioness Diana's eyes narrowed, and her voice turns icy. "It seems you've grown ungrateful" she snap, her words dripping with arrogance.

I steadies myself, refusing to let any of their behaviour rattle me. I silently tell myself not to engage. Without another word, I turns on my heel and walks away, my gown flowing gracefully behind me. Emilia and the Marchioness stares after me, stunned by my audacity to simply leave, unbothered by their confrontation.

As the music dimmed and the attention shifted, the party moves into the next stage. Miss Vivienne steps forward to address the crowd, giving speech about the collaboration and the hard work behind the designs. After her words of praise, she invites me to the centre of the room to share my thoughts.

I take a deep breath as I steps into the spotlight. I speak with grace, expressing my gratitude for the opportunity and my pride in the designs we have created. My words flows smoothly—until an unexpected interruption.

From the edge of the room, Marchioness Diana's voice rings out, loud and accusing. "Arrogant! That's what you are, Aveline!"

The crowed gasped, and I freeze, shock at the blatant outburst. Confused murmurs spread among the nobles as Marchioness Diana pushes forward, her face twisting with anger. "You are nothing but an ungrateful child! The House of Thornes raised you, and yet when your business succeeds, you give nothing in return! Not even acknowledgment!"

I clench my fists, willing myself to stay composed. "That is not true," I said firmly, meeting the Marchioness's glare.

"It is true!" Marchioness Diana shrieked, doubling down.

The murmurs in the room grow louder, and I can feel the weight of their stares. But I am not about to let the Marchioness twist the narrative. I stand tall, my voice steady as I responds. "The truth is that the House of Thornes treated me poorly for years despite being blood related to them. What I achieved, I did on my own. And if necessary," I adds in a quiet sharp tone, "I have evidence to prove it."

The colour drains from Marchioness Diana's face at Aveline's words. Before she could recover, Marquess Harry suddenly appeared, his expression a mix of desperation and mortification. "My apologies, everyone," he said quickly, bowing to the crowd. "My wife... she's had a bit too much to drink tonight. Please forgive her behaviour."

He pulled Marchioness Diana back, whispering urgently to her as she glare at me. Emilia, standing behind them, looks utterly humiliated, her face red as she avoids the crowd's eyes.

I inhaled deeply, centering myself. Turning back to the crowd, I offer a gracious smile and continues my speech as though nothing has happened. My composed demeanour earns nods of approval from the guests, and the murmurs of doubt began to fade.

Meanwhile, the Thornes withdraw quietly into the crowd, their previous arrogance reduced to silent embarrassment. As I finish my speech, the applause that follows feels like a victory—not just for my work, but for my ability to stand strong in the face of their cruelty.