Chapter 6

Victoria POV

The entire upper-class social circle was buzzing about the upcoming "Metropolitan Charity Night" gala.

Only those who received exclusive invitations were qualified to step through those doors.

Rumor had it that the notoriously private top billionaire would also attend, making everyone scramble for entry tickets.

While organizing materials at the auction house, my boss handed me a special work pass.

"The gala organizers urgently need an on-site special consultant appraiser."

The boss looked at me. "I've seen your professional performance in the shop. They specifically requested someone sharp-eyed who can command the room. I recommended you."

I accepted the work pass stamped with "Special Expert," my fingers pausing slightly.

I knew Ethan would definitely be there. That was his familiar battlefield, his arena for displaying status.

"Not going?" the boss asked. "The compensation is quite generous. Enough to cover half a year of your apartment rent."

"I'll go." I hung the work pass around my neck.

Why wouldn't I go?

Before, I attended as Ethan's female companion, needing to read his moods, needing to network for him, needing to worry whether my dress and behavior were "worthy" of him.

This time, I was going as a professional to work and earn compensation.

Nothing shameful about that.

Looking at the clear text on the work pass, I found it far more pleasing than any companion invitation as someone's accessory.

The night of the gala, Midtown Manhattan, the hotel's red carpet stretched out, camera flashes illuminating the night sky like daylight.

I arrived early, heading toward the inconspicuous employee entrance on the side. In my hand was a black briefcase containing professional tools and materials.

Card swipe, identity verification, the passage door's green light illuminated.

I pushed through the door expressionlessly.

Just as I entered the side door, my peripheral vision caught the end of the red carpet where a black Bentley Mulsanne slowly came to a stop.

Ethan emerged in a perfectly tailored suit, followed by Mia in full formal attire taking his arm. She wore a complete set of diamond jewelry, smiling brilliantly for the cameras, as if she'd already won the whole world.

Inside the gala hall.

I wore a proper black professional suit and white cotton gloves, focused on examining several important lots about to be featured in the designated display area.

A slight commotion and deliberately lowered laughter came from nearby.

I looked up to see Mia holding Ethan's arm, standing with several socialites.

In front of them was a classical oil painting. Mia seemed eager to show off, her voice carrying clearly. "...The colors are so vibrant, clearly a masterpiece from the peak of Impressionism."

The socialites exchanged meaningful glances. No one responded. The atmosphere grew awkward.

Impressionism and Renaissance classicism were worlds apart.

This was entry-level knowledge.

Ethan's expression seemed to darken. He discreetly withdrew his arm and said something to Mia before turning to walk away.

Mia stood alone, her smile somewhat stiff.

After a while, Mia wandered over to my area with a glass of red wine.

She spotted me immediately, her eyes first flashing with astonishment, then replaced by a mixture of contempt and excitement.

She walked straight over, stopping in front of me, her wrist suddenly tilting.

Splash.

Half a glass of red wine spilled onto the polished marble floor, a few drops of deep red liquid splashing onto my pant leg.

"Waitress," she raised her voice, finger pointing at me, tone full of mockery, "come clean this up. What, didn't Ethan give you living expenses? You've actually fallen so low as to work as waitstaff here. How utterly humiliating."