Ophelia Gets Thrown Out (Ophelia) novel Chapter 77

Chapter 77

Chapter 77

The final note hung in the air, its resonance fading into a profound silence that briefly embraced the hall.

Then, a scattering of applause began, quickly swelling into thunderous acclaim that rippled through the audience.

“That was extraordinary,” someone murmured nearby.

“Her technique rivals professional soloists,” another voice added appreciatively.

Daphne stood frozen, disbelief etching sharp lines across her face. “Impossible,” she whispered harshly. “How did she…?”

This wasn’t the humiliation she had orchestrated. This was a triumph.

“Thank you,” Ophelia acknowledged the applause with a graceful bow before descending from the stage.

Pausing beside Daphne, she let her voice drop to a silken murmur. “I suppose I owe you thanks for the opportunity. I hope my response proved equally surprising.”

“You!” Daphne’s complexion shifted from pale to ashen. The surprise felt less like a gift and more like a slap.

Ophelia’s gaze cooled, her words precise and cutting. “Perhaps reconsider these petty schemes. Public embarrassment tends to reflect poorly on its architect.”

“You think you’ve won?” Daphne’s voice trembled with suppressed fury.

“Calm down,” Ophelia advised, her tone deceptively light. “A scene would hardly improve your position, would it? Not with everyone watching.”

“Ophelia!” Daphne’s glare burned with pure hatred, the intensity of someone unaccustomed to defiance.

Ophelia dismissed her with a slight wave. “I have better uses for my time. Do sit down. You’re disrupting the evening.”

With that, she turned, head held with the natural poise of someone accustomed to admiration.

Eyes followed her across the room, filled with admiration and something close to awe.

Left alone, Daphne slowly sank into her seat, her face shadowed with fury and defeat.

‘This isn’t over, Ophelia,’ she vowed silently. ‘I won’t forget this.’

As Ophelia settled back into her seat, Dylan regarded her with newfound appreciation. “I never knew you played like that,” he said, his voice warm with admiration.

He’d expected competence, but her performance had displayed a technical mastery that nearly rivaled his own.

Ophelia met his gaze with a playful smirk. “Still not quite at your level, though.”

“Give it time,” he chuckled, tapping her forehead affectionately. “At this rate, you’ll surpass me before long.” He meant every word.

“You’re too kind,” she quipped, blinking dramatically.

“Just stating facts,” Dylan countered with an indulgent smile:

A staff member approached, presenting a certificate with both hands. “For you, Ms. Ophelia Rowle.”

“Thank you,” she acknowledged politely, accepting the document.

Her

eyes scanned the embossed gold lettering, a faint smile touching her lips at its exquisite craftsmanship. Dylan observed her calm reaction with amusement. “Better keep that safe,” he reminded lightly. “It counts toward your conduct evaluation and academic credits.”

“Credits?” Ophelia’s eyes widened in genuine surprise. “For one performance?” The policy seemed almost too

lenient.

Dylan nodded with understanding. “Charity events qualify as public service. The business council proposed this to encourage student participation, and the university agreed it supports character development.”

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Chapter 77

While most students would be preening over such recognition, she maintained her characteristic composure. “Right,” Ophelia acknowledged as comprehension dawned.

Though her company engaged in philanthropy, her infrequent campus visits had left her unaware of this particular policy.

The school reference reminded Dylan of her academic wager with Zoe.

“The semester starts soon, doesn’t it?” he asked.

“This Friday for orientation, then Monday classes begin,” she confirmed, momentarily marveling at how quickly the break had passed.

“How’s your preparation going for that exam bet with Zoe?” he asked, his tone lightly probing.

Ophelia raised an eyebrow playfully. “Are you worried about me, Dylan?”

“Let’s call it curious,” he amended, a faint smile touching his mouth. “Mainly about Zoe’s reaction when she loses.”

A spark of amusement lit Ophelia’s eyes. “Your confidence is flattering.”

“Given what you’ve demonstrated, it’s well-placed,” he countered, suspecting Zoe might already regret their challenge.

With a casual shrug, Ophelia offered, “Dinner’s on me when I win.”

“Consider it a celebration,” Dylan agreed, his gaze softening. This remarkable woman kept earning his admiration.

Their conversation was interrupted when Dylan’s phone rang.

“Hello? Right now?” He glanced uncertainly at Ophelia, his expression troubled.

Noting his urgency, Ophelia gestured understandingly. “Go ahead. I can get back on my own.”

After a moment’s hesitation, he relented. “Alright, pick me up now.”

Hanging up, he apologized, “There’s an emergency I need to handle. I’ll have my driver take you home.”

Leaving her the car would ease his mind.

Accepting his consideration without protest, she simply nodded. “Thanks.”

“Text me when you’re home,” he insisted, needing confirmation of her safety.

“Of course,” she promised, glancing toward the nearly empty stage. “This is wrapping up anyway.”

Only after repeated assurances did Dylan finally depart.

Ophelia smiled faintly at his protective nature. He really didn’t need to worry. She was far more capable than he seemed to think.

As the gala drew to a close, Ophelia slipped out before the main exodus.

She stood alone at the venue’s entrance, waiting for her driver to retrieve the car, when murmuring voices from nearby caught her attention.

Frowning, she glanced toward the source and immediately recognized the figures huddled in the shadows.

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