Celestine couldn’t dissociate herself from any of this.
After Mirabelle changed into her red carpet gown, Celestine kept a close eye on her friend’s mood, constantly checking for any sign of distress.
Mirabelle gave her skirt a playful tug and laughed. “Celly, don’t get so worked up. Things like this are bound to happen eventually. That’s just how this industry is–everyone loves to jump on the bandwagon. The minute you stumble, there’s a line of people waiting to trample over you.”
She said it with an airy nonchalance, as if the whole affair barely scratched the surface of her heart.
But Celestine knew better. The bitterness behind those words was something only the person living it could truly understand.
What Celestine couldn’t fathom was how someone as sharp, independent, and successful as Mirabelle could still be entangled with a man like Zeke.
When her scandal broke, Zeke–her supposed boyfriend–didn’t say a single word in her defense. He even took advantage of the uproar to distance himself further, making her fall look even harder.
Celestine refused to believe Mirabelle hadn’t noticed.
And yet, whenever Zeke was mentioned, Mirabelle’s attitude became almost painfully humble, just as the tabloids described–like a woman hopelessly blinded by love.
It was the twenty–first century, after all. There were plenty of ways for a woman to repay a favor–sleeping with someone shouldn’t have to be one of them.
“Mirabelle, do you actually love Zeke?” Celestine asked quietly.
A flicker of amusement danced in Mirabelle’s eyes. “Why bring him up now? I just…. settled.”
Celestine didn’t say anything, still searching Mirabelle’s face for something more.
Mirabelle’s lips curled into a small, wry smile. “Alright, fine. Maybe I did have some real feelings for him. He’s Young Master Sterling, after all. Being with him in this business means no one dumb enough to cross him would dare mess with me.”
She paused, her tone light but edged with meaning. “It keeps the creeps and the backroom deals at bay. That’s a good enough reason, isn’t it?”
1/3
Chapter 164
Celestine nodded, half convinced. Still, she sensed there was something deeper Mirabelle wasn’t saying. But she wasn’t going to pry into her friend’s secrets. If Mirabelle didn’t want to talk, she wasn’t going to push.
Meanwhile, Denton chose to have their PR team ride out the storm without releasing any statements, despite mounting pressure.
The red carpet event had already begun.
Joanna, tonight’s media darling, had her walk time stretched from the usual five minutes to well over twenty.
She stepped onto the carpet in a stunning sponsor’s red strapless gown, her long hair swept up in an elegant chignon. Her makeup was as soft and classic as ever, the whole look perfectly polished–almost too perfect.
There was nothing to fault, but somehow, it left people a little underwhelmed.
When the host asked why she wasn’t wearing the diamond gown everyone had been anticipating, Joanna blushed demurely. “The best should always be saved for last,” she replied.
The host played along. “Sounds like Joanna has a big surprise in store for us at the awards dinner tonight! We’re all looking forward to it.”
[She’s gorgeous! I can’t take my eyes off her!]
[Mirabelle’s next! Let’s see what she’s got–how is she going to compete with Joanna?]
On the huge screen above the carpet, the next entrant’s name flashed: Mirabelle. Everyone was waiting with bated breath, eyes glued to the entrance.
Even Joanna lingered, drawing out her exit, trading light gossip with the host while secretly hoping to watch Mirabelle flounder.
She needed Mirabelle to see for herself who truly ruled this industry. Even what Joanna cast aside was out of reach for everyone else.
Minute after minute ticked by. The carpet at the entrance remained empty for three long minutes–still no sign of Mirabelle.
“What is this? Is Mirabelle too scared to even show her face?”
“I just saw her team frantically calling backstage–probably begging for help!” “She’s really going to wear the gown Designer Blake made for Joanna? That’s
embarrassing!”
The invited reporters and guests murmured among themselves.
Lance, among them, gave a cold, crooked smile.
Boring.
He’d hoped that Mirabelle wearing his dress would boost Zephyrus Atelier’s profile, but now she didn’t even dare show up. What a waste of anticipation.
“Look! Mirabelle’s here!”
A voice shouted, turning every head toward the far end of the red carpet.
And there was Mirabelle, sweeping forward in a vivid scarlet gown, peonies blooming boldly along the skirt–every step a picture of poise and grace.
Her features, striking and classically beautiful, weren’t overshadowed in the least by the dramatic dress. If anything, it only made her stand out all the more.
