Revenge Of The Jilted Bride (Ophelia)
Jilted Bride 8

Chapter 8

Meanwhile, at Hastings Villa, Emily stood gracefully in the grand hallway, dressed in an elegant champagne-colored gown that shimunered under the soft lights. Her long hair cascaded over her shoulders, perfectly styled, while her makeup was flawless, accentuating her natural beauty.

"Emily, you look absolutely stunning tonight, Heather couldn't help but gasp, pride gleaming in her eyes. "You're sure to be the center of attention."

Family flashed a sweet, charming smile, the kind that made people feel instantly endeared to her.

"Well, it's getting late. We should be on our way," Owen, looking dapper in a tailored suit, said with a confident grin. He was practically glowing in anticipation of the night ahead.

Tonight's charity gala was hosted by the Carnegie family, one of the top three prestigious families in Dellanex. The guest list was a who's who of the elite-top-tier families, business moguls, and all the power players one would expect at such a high- society event. At the entrance to the grand Everland Hotel, the most luxurious establishment in the city, the scene was pure luxury.

Limousines and high-end cars lined the red carpet, which stretched to the street, with layers of security ensuring exclusivity. Every few yards, a patrol car was stationed, enforcing the strictest of measures. Reporters stood by eagerly, cameras in hand. craning their necks to catch a glimpse of the attendees as they arrived.

This wasn't just a charity event-it was a spectacle. A-list local celebrities, dressed as if they were attending an international film festival, walked the red carpet, competing for attention with their glamorous attire.

Miles stepped out of his sleek, silver Maybach, looking effortlessly sophisticated in a light Brioni bespoke suit. Tall and poised, his presence immediately caught the attention of onlookers.

"Miles, Emily called out, carefully lifting her gown as she rushed over from a nearby car, her heels clicking softly on the pavement. She looped her arm through his, her eyes shining with adoration.

Miles offered a warm smile, his gaze soft and doting as he looked at her.

The connection between the two was undeniable, and it didn't escape Owen's notice. The older man couldn't help but beam with satisfaction, imagining the endless possibilities a union between the Hastings and Lewis families could bring. After all, the Lewis family had deep roots, and Miles, the heir to Lewis Group, was a golden catch.

As Owen approached, he chuckled, "I see why you were so impatient in the car earlier."

"Good evening. Mr. Hastings," Miles greeted him politely, his tone respectful yet calm. Then, he turned to Emily with a glint in his eye. "I've heard that there's a stunning blue diamond necklace up for auction tonight. How about I win it for you?"

Emily put on an act of modesty, her lips curling into a smile. "Oh, there's no need for that, really. It'd be such a waste." Though she said that, inside she was practically giddy with excitement.

After a few more pleasantries, the group made their way into the dazzling hotel ballroom, where the charity auction would soon begin.

The room was packed with the creme de la crème of society, the air buzzing with chatter. The auction kicked off quickly, with Emily and Miles seated in the third row, while behind them sat other wealthy socialites Emily was familiar with.

The auctioneer, accompanied by elegant hostesses, took to the stage to showcase the evening's lots. The initial items were valuable antiques, worth tens of thousands of dollars-merely appetizers for the night's big-ticket offerings. Then came the masterpieces, authentic paintings by renowned artists, whose prices rose with each bid.

In the genteel world of high society, even the bidding was a game of status, a way of shining without being obvious, of knowing exactly when to stop and let others take the stage.

"And now, ladies and gentlemen, our ninth item of the night... The auctioneer paused for dramatic effect. "A breathtaking white silk evening gown with gold thread embroidery from La Reverie."

A spotlight illuminated the stage, revealing the gown in all its radiant splendor. The delicate white lace and subtle shimmer of the gold threads made the dress look like something out of a dream. Chapter 8

The moment it made its grand entrance, a collective gasp swept through the crowd of socialites seated below.

"Have you heard that? La Reverie is a brand that made its debut internationally just a couple of years ago, and they only release une design each year," someone whispered.

"Indeed. There are only two La Reverie gowns on the market, another added. "One belongs to the royal family of Yoskela and the other is often seen on the First Lady of Heloria. She wears it to all her most important events."

A girl gasped. "I love this gown. The designer is so mysterious, but her works are revered by top fashion critics worldwide.

Miles overheard the murmurs and turned to Emily with a smile. "Do you like it, Emily?"

Emily thought to herself. What girl wouldn't? But she still feigned indifference. "It's beautiful, but let's leave it to the other ladies tonight. I'm not one for fighting over things."

Miles admired her composed, almost ethereal demeanor-the way she always seemed above the fray, unaffected by the pettiness of the world. That was rare in the cutthroat circles of the elite.

"Don't worry," Miles whispered, his tone gentle yet resolute, "I'll win it for you."

His words, though soft, carried through the air, catching the attention of several people around them. The Lewis family may not have been one of the top three families in Dellanex, but they were not far behind. Hearing Miles say this, others quietly lowered their bidding paddles, realizing it was a lost cause. A faint flicker of disappointment passed over their faces.

"Wow, Emily, you're so lucky. Mr. Lewis is so good to you, a nearby socialite gushed, her voice full of envy as she and the other heiresses threw admiring glances at Emily.

The auctioneer's voice rang out, clear and authoritative. "The starting bid for this gold-threaded evening gown is three hundred thousand dollars,

Before the room even had time to breathe, a paddle shot up. Five hundred thousand dollars, someone called.

Another voice followed quickly. "Seven hundred thousand dollars."

"Nine hundred thousand dollars, some other lady said.

The air buzzed with excitement as the bids kept climbing, faster and faster.

Ophelia, sitting quietly on a private balcony on the second floor-where the view was nothing short of perfect-had her eyes locked on this dazzling gown. It shimunered under the spotlight, and though her expression was calm, Kenneth somehow thought she liked it. A knowing smirk played at the corner of his lips as he signaled to Mark with a subtle nod

The numbers continued to skyrocket.

Finally, Miles, confident and smug, raised his paddle. "Three million dollars."

Three million dollars, the auctioneer echoed, almost impressed. "Three million going once, three million going twice..."

But just before the gavel dropped, the auctioneer paused, his eyes drifting toward the balcony on the second floor. "Seven million dollars, someone said in a deep voice.

A collective gasp swept across the room as everyone turned toward the mysterious bidder in the private box, but no one could see who it was. All they could feel was the ripple of power in the air.

Miles' hand, still raised, hovered in mid-air, his expression darkening. That bid-seven million dollars-wasn't just an offer, it was a shut-down, a no-compromise move that left no room for him to retaliate.

The crowd had heard him boast about buying the gown for Emily. Now, he had no choice but to drop out. If the bidder above him was determined to have it, continuing to bid would only paint him as the fool of the evening.

His thoughts churned angrily. 'Seven million dollars for a gown? Are they insane?"

Emily, always quick to maintain appearances, laid a gentle hand on his arm. "It's alright, Miles," she said sweetly, though her smile didn't quite reach her eyes. "I appreciate the thought, but honestly, it wasn't really my style anyway." She tried to sound as if she was letting it go with grace, but inside, her heart sank.

A part of her still hoped Miles would keep bidding, especially after so many had heard Miles promise it to her.

Miles exhaled, reheves at the out she gave him. "Alright then," he said, trying to save face as best he could.

sn

Seven million dollars going once, seven million going twice, sold for seven million dollars." The auctioneer's gavel came down with a salty that made the room buzz with whispers.

Meanwhile, on the private balcony, Ophelia blinked, realizing what had just happened. Her eyes flickered between Mark and Kenneth, suspicion blooming.

"Don't you like it?" Kenneth asked, his tone casually teasing.

Ophelia's eyes widened as she pointed at herself in disbelief. "You bought it... for me?"

Kenneth's smirk deepened, his dark eyes glinting. "Who else? You think I'm wearing that thing?"

His words hit her like a joke she hadn't been prepared for. The idea of Kenneth in an evening gown flashed through her mind, absurd and almost Laughable

But beneath that amusement was a deeper realization-this was the gown she had designed herself, and now, inexplicably, it was coming back to her

In her last life, shed poured her heart into it, a birthday gift for Emily, an offering to gain favor with her parents and brothers. But in this life, she wasn't interested in pandering to them and squandering her masterpiece in such a way. She had made a few changes and had it sold off, thinking it would never cross her path again. Little did she expect it to reappear at this auction, let alone be bought by Kenneth at such a staggering price.

The irony wasn't lost on her. Kenneth had paid a fortune for something she'd created, and now both the dress and the money were hers. It was almost too good to be true and she felt that she ought to thank Kenneth for this generous turn of events.

"Thank you," she said, though the words felt inadequate,

Kenneth raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed by her polite response. "That's it? Not very heartfelt, is it? He leaned back, legs crossed with easy grace, the gleam of his polished shoes catching the light. His fingers idly twirled the silver ring on his pinky. "You know, there are plenty of ways a woman can properly thank a man."

His voice dripped with suggestion, soft yet heavy with meaning, leaving her heart racing.

Chapter 9