My Accidental Billionaire Husband (Katia and Julian) novel Chapter 390

The Gala Arrival

Delia’s POV

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I arrived at the Grand Meridian na black car Noah’s office had sent. The dress I chose was deep emerald, structured, expensive, and cut to remind every person in the room that I still belonged in places like this. The Vesper ring sat plain and heavy on my finger. I kept adjusting it on the ride over, as if moving it around might make it look like it meant something more than a signature on a contract.

The steps outside the ballroom were already crowded with cameras and early guests. I stepped out of the car and felt the first flash go off. I lifted my chin and smiled the way I used to when the last name on my arm still opened every door.

Inside, the ballroom looked exactly as I had planned it. Black and gold. Tall florals. Soft light that made jewelry flash. Staff moved in clean lines. For a moment I felt a thin thread of control return. This room still answered to me, even if the man who had married me that morning could barely stand to look at me.

Noah was already there.

He stood near the entrance with Adrian, speaking in a low voice. When he saw me, he gave a short nod, nothing more. No hand on my back. No glance at the dress. No acknowledgment that I was supposed to be his wife in front of these people. He looked past me toward the doors as if checking for someone more important.

“You’re late,” he said when I reached him.

“I’m exactly on time.”

“Stand at the entrance. Smile. Greet the primary guests as they arrive. Do not create a problem.”

He walked off before I could answer. The dismissal was clean and public enough for anyone standing close to notice. Heat crawled up my neck, but I kept the smile in place. I had survived worse indifference. I could survive this.

I took my position near the main doors as instructed. Guests began to flow in. I shook hands, kissed cheeks, accepted compliments on the room, and watched every reaction to the ring on my finger. Some people stared. A few whispered. Good. Let them whisper. By the end of the night, the name Vesper would sit next to mine in every important conversation.

Then the air at the entrance changed.

Julian and Katia arrived.

Julian looked the same as always. Dark suit, unreadable face, the quiet authority that still made rooms adjust around him. But Katia was the one who stopped my breath for half a second.

Her dress was silver. Not the safe kind of silver. The kind that caught every light in the room and threw it back harder. It fit her like it had been made on her body that morning, simple in cut but impossible to ignore. Her hair was up. Her makeup was clean. She looked expensive without trying and calm without effort. Standing next to her, my emerald dress suddenly felt like I was trying too hard.

Jealousy hit sharp and immediately. I forced my smile wider and stepped forward exactly as Noah had ordered.

“Mr. Windsor. Mrs. Windsor. Welcome.”

Katia’s eyes moved over me once, from the ring on my finger to my face. There was no shock in her expression. Only a mild, almost bored assessment.

“Delia,” she said. Her voice was pleasant and distant. “The room looks lovely,”

Julian gave a short nod. Nothing else. His gaze had already moved past me into the ballroom, scanning, measuring, the same way he used to look at balance sheets.

I kept the smile in place even though it hurt my cheeks.

1/3

mus

DA

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“Please, allow me to show you to your table.”

I walked then toward the main table, hyperaware of every step Katia took beside me. The silver dress moved like liquid. People turned to look at her. Not at me. At her. The same people who used to watch me when I walked into rooms on Julian’s arm were now tracking my sister instead. The realization sat bitter under my tongue.

At the table I pulled out Katia’s chair myself. Pettiness made me do it with extra care, as if perfect manners could erase the fact that she outshone me without even glancing in a mirror.

“Enjoy your evening,” I said.

Katia looked up at me. For a second something almost like pity crossed her face. Then it vanished.

“Thank you,” she said.

Julian was already seated, speaking quietly to a man I didn’t recognize. He did not look at me again.

I walked away with my spine straight and my hands curled into fists at my sides. The jealousy sat hot and messy in my chest. Of course she would show up looking like that. Of course she would make my carefully chosen dress feel like a consolation prize. She had taken the man. She had taken the public story. Now she was taking the oxygen in the room too.

Noah appeared at my shoulder without warning.

“You look tense,” he said under his breath.

“I’m fine.”

“Fix your face. People are watching.”

He moved away again, leaving the order behind him like a stain. I smoothed my expression and returned to the entrance to greet the remaining guests. Every compliment I received bounced off me. Every curious glance at my ring felt thinner than it had ten minutes earlier.

By the time the last important names had arrived and the doors were closed, the ballroom was full. Conversation rose in polished waves. Servers began moving with champagne. I stood near the side of the stage and watched Katia laugh at something Julian said. The silver dress caught the light again. She looked like she belonged there without effort. I looked like I had fought my way in and was still catching my breath.

Noah took his place near the front. He did not glance in my direction. The message was clear enough for anyone paying attention. The marriage existed on paper. It did not exist in the way he stood or the way he failed to touch me or the way he left me alone at the edge of the room.

I poured myself a glass of water I did not want and held it tightly enough that the cut glass bit into my pafin. The jealousy refused to settle. It mixed with the older humiliation until everything inside me felt scraped raw. Katia sat at the main table in a dress that made mine look like a safe choice. Julian sat beside her like the past two years of my life had never happened. And somewhere in this building a man I had married that morning could not even be bothered to stand next to me.

The lights dimmed slightly. A staff member appeared at my side.

“Mrs. Vesper,” he said quietly. “We are ready to begin the introductions.”

I set the glass down, smoothed the front of my dress, and walked toward the side of the stage with my head high.

The silver dress still burned at the edge of my vision.

I smiled anyway.

Mrs Ve