Wealth Without Him Rising from Betrayal (Grace Wilson) novel Chapter 18

Chapter 18

Grace’s POV

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I walked toward the stage with measured steps, the crystal chandeliers casting golden light across my deep sea blue gown.

The spotlight hit me with blinding intensity. I took a deep breath, straightened my spine, and stepped onto the stage with the poise expected

of a Wilson. This was my debut in high society, my first public appearance as a legitimate heir. Every move had to be perfect.

1 approached the microphone with a practiced smile, glancing naturally toward the teleprompter at the side of the stage. But as my eyes

focused on the screen, my heart nearly stopped.

Illegitimate Imposter flashed in bold red letters against the black background.

1 heard several soft laughs from the front row, the kind that confirmed this wasn’t a technical error but a calculated humiliation. My eyes

scanned the dimly lit audience, unable to identify the culprit, but I knew this was done by those who refused to acknowledge my identity.

I didn’t flinch. Didn’t falter. Instead, I smiled as if this were merely a mind inconvenience.

“Looks like our tech team is having a little issue tonight.” My voice remained steady as I walked to the teleprompter and unplugged it without

hesitation. “But that’s okay. I think we all know what really matters is substance, not format.”

Polite laughter rippled through the audience, but I could feel the tension hanging in the air. They were waiting to see how I’d recover-or crash

and burn.

I raised my champagne glass, watching how the light played through the amber liquid.

“As a professional perfumer, I often reflect on how fragrances mirror life, improvised, connecting my expertise to the evening’s charitable

theme. “Champagne is like the top note of a perfume-dazzling but fleeting.”

I took a small sip, allowing the pause to build anticipation.

“However, any truly precious fragrance derives its value from its base notes-those elements that endure the test of time. They require high-

temperature extraction, time to settle, and the refinement of professional craftsmanship.” My voice grew more confident as I met the eyes of

those who had laughed earlier. “Much like how a family’s honor isn’t defined by surface labels, but by its ability to withstand the test of fire.”

I could see the smug smiles fading from those who had expected me to fail. My words were both a tribute to Wilson family history and a direct

counter to that “imposter” label.

“Tonight, we gather not to showcase labels and titles, but for concrete action. True value comes from the change we create for others.”

I continued outlining future plans, every word carefully chosen to demonstrate my understanding of family business while subtly reinforcing

my position as a rightful heir.

Thank you all.” I gave a slight bow as I concluded.

No applause followed immediately. Seconds of silence stretched into what felt like eternity. I maintained my smile, though anxiety began

creeping into my thoughts. Was this their plan? To leave me standing in uncomfortable silence?

Then a single, crisp clap broke through.

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Wild

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11:55 Mon, Feb 23

Chapter 18

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Sophia rose from the main guest table, applauding with determined force, pride evident on her face. Her action was like a key unlocking a door

-suddenly applause thundered through the hall, filling the entire ballroom.

Our eyes met across the distance, and Sophia gave me a subtle nod. In that moment, we formed a wordless alliance, a female coalition. I wasn t

fighting alone anymore.

As the applause faded and dinner formally began, waiters glided forward with expertly prepared appetizers. I descended from the stage to find

my seat.

As the Wilson representative, I should have been placed at the front VIP section. But when I arrived at that area, I discovered every place was

occupied, with no name card bearing my name anywhere around the table

I stood there, stranded with nowhere to go. Waiters continued serving as remained awkwardly by the table edge, becoming the focal point of

the entire room. I felt the weight of stares-some curious, others pitying,nd a few undeniably smug.

Some people just can’t find their place even in designer gowns, a deliberately loud female voice carried from a nearby table. I turned to see

Samantha sitting there, her lips curved in a saccharine yet venomous smile. After all, this place is reserved for true aristocracy.”

Young socialites around her tittered, like sharks scenting blood. A familiar anger surged within me-this feeling of being looked down upon, of

being mocked, I’d endured it far too long.

“Samantha, your Hermes bag doesn’t need to occupy a human seat, unless it’s also planning to bid on that necklace.” A deep male voice cut

through the conversation.

Oliver stood there holding a wine glass, his gaze fixed pointedly on the handbag Samantha had placed on the chair beside her.

Her face became uncomfortable as she grabbed her bag. The laughter around them died abruptly, leaving an awkward vacuum.

I never expected Oliver would come to my rescue at this moment. This male me question my previous impression of him.

“Ms. Wilson, please come with me. The event manager hurried to my side sweat beading on his forehead. “I deeply apologize for this

oversight. We’ll arrange a seat for you immediately.”

He gestured toward the back rows where several additional chairs had been hastily placed-clearly less prestigious than the front positions.

“That won’t be necessary,” I said softly, my eyes drawn to the main table where a single seat remained empty-the most prominent position with the best view in the house, marked with a gold-embossed nameplate

Without hesitation, I walked directly toward it. The manager’s face turned ashen.

“Ms. Wilson, you can’t-that’s Mr. Morgan’s seat!”

I ignored him completely. Behind me, Samantha gasped audibly: “Are you insane? That seat isn’t for you! Nobody sits in Morgan’s place!*

I reached the position and picked up the gold-embossed nameplate, studying its elegant lettering before handing it to the stunned waiter.

Since the organizers have misplaced my seat, and Mr. Morgan hasn’t arrived yet,’ I said as I sat down gracefully, smoothing my dress before raising my chin to address the room, ‘I don’t mind warming it up for him if he has any objections, let him personally ask me to move.”

The room fell into shocked silence. I picked up the crystal water glass and took a small sip, as if this were just another ordinary dinner.

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