Married to the Billionaire Who Betrayed Me novel Chapter 75

Chapter 75 Crashing The High Society Gala

“Read the dress code, I instructed.

“The email specifies Understated Cocktail,” Chloe read. “It says the board decided to scale back the formality this year to focus on

the charity aspect. Short dresses. Muted colors. Minimal jewelry.”

I looked at the gold-embossed invitation. The Whitmore family never scaled back. They existed to display their excess. The annual

gala traditionally required white-tie attire. Floor-length gowns. Tuxedos.

“It is a trap,” I said.

Chloe frowned. “Excuse me?”

*Celeste told her coordinator to send me a fake dress code,” I explained. I leaned back in my chair. “She wants me to walk into a

ballroom full of massive, expensive gowns wearing a simple cocktail dress. She wants me to look underdressed, unprepared, and

entirely out of place. It is a visual tactic to establish dominance.”

“Should I decline the invitation?” Chloe asked. Her fingers hovered over her tablet screen.

“No,” I replied. “Accept the invitation.”

I picked up the handwritten note and dropped it into the trash can.

*If I hide in this office, Celeste controls the narrative,” I continued. “She will tell Alexander Redford and the other investors that I

lack the social refinement to operate at their level. She will frame my absence as cowardice.

“What will you wear?”

‘I will wear armor,” I said.

On the evening of the gala, I stood in front of the mirror in my hotel suite.

I did not wear understated cocktail attire.

I wore a custom, floor-length black gown. It lacked sequins, lace, or floral embroidery. The fabric was heavy, matte silk that

absorbed the light. It featured a high, sharp neckline and long, structured sleeves. The silhouette was relentless.

I pulled my hair back into a flawless, severe knot. I applied the Aegis foundation and a dark, matte lip color. I wore zero jewelry,

Marcus and Leo escorted me down to the lobby. A black town car waited at the curb.

We drove to the Whitmore estate. The property sat on the edge of the capital, a massive historical mansion surrounded by acres of

manicured gardens. A long, winding driveway led to the main entrance.

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Chapter 75 Crashing The High Society Gala

Dozens of luxury vehicles crawled toward the valet station. The flashing lights of paparazzi cameras illuminated the front steps!

Celeste ensured the media attended. She wanted my humiliation documented for the morning papers.

The town car stopped. Marcus stepped out and opened my door.

The crisp autumn air bit at my skin. I stepped onto the cobblestone driveway. The heavy silk of my gown swept across the stones.

I looked at the guests walking up the wide marble stairs.

1 was right.

The women wore massive, voluminous ballgowns in bright jewel tones. Emerald greens, sapphire blues, and ruby reds. They dripped

with diamonds. The men wore sharp black tuxedos with white bow ties. P

If I had followed the email instructions and worn a muted cocktail dress, I would have looked like a member of the catering staff.

I walked toward the stairs. Leo flanked my right side. Marcus took the left.

The paparazzi spotted me. The camera shutters erupted into a chaotic frenzy. Reporters shouted my name from behind the velvet

ropes.

I reached the massive oak doors. Two uniformed guards pulled them open.

I stepped into the grand foyer.

The interior of the Whitmore estate resembled a museum. Crystal chandeliers hung from vaulted ceilings covered in painted

frescoes. Gold-leaf accents lined the walls. Hundreds of elite guests mingled in the space, holding crystal flutes filled with vintage

champagne.

The ambient noise level in the foyer dropped the moment I crossed the threshold.

The attendees turned their heads. They expected the disgraced consultant. They expected the woman who survived a media scandal

to arrive looking eager to please, eager to fit into their world.

They saw a woman who refused to play their game. The severe, matte black gown cut through the sea of bright colors and glittering

diamonds like a scythe. I did not look like I wanted to belong. I looked like owned the building.

Whispers broke out across the foyer.

I spotted Alexander Redford standing near a massive marble fireplace. He saw my dress. He understood the trap Celeste tried to

spring. He raised his champagne glass in a silent, respectful salute.

I walked deeper into the estate. I headed toward the main ballroom. The guests parted for me. The social elite recognized power when it entered the room. My capital was new, but my presence was absolute.

I entered the ballroom.

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Chapter 75 Crashing The High Society Gala

Celeste Whitmore stood on a raised dais at the far end of the room. She held court with a dozen wealthy socialites. She wore

massive, sprawling gown made of pale pink tulle. A diamond tiara rested in her blonde hair. She looked exactly like the heiress she

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