Roxy POV
The clinking of crystal champagne flutes masked the venomous whispers of people who looked at me like an insect.
Every pair of eyes in the grand ballroom tracked our steps the second Jaxon pushed open the doors of the Grand Sovereign Center.
The university’s Athletic Board had rented out the most expensive, exclusive event center in the city for their annual Donor Gala.
It was a calculated, multi-million-dollar PR showcase designed to celebrate the upcoming championship season, secure athletic pledges, and parade Jaxon alongside Cassandra in front of the state’s wealthiest trustees.
Instead, Jaxon had walked through the grand doors with me on his arm.
The ballroom was a glittering, suffocating sea of black tuxedos, diamonds, and tailored silk.
Huge crystal chandeliers hung high above the marble floors, casting a harsh, golden glow over hundreds of old-money guests sipping vintage wine.
Beneath the soft orchestra music playing near the double staircases, the air was poisoned with hostility.
People didn’t even try to hide their stares.
They leaned into each other, pointing their champagne glasses toward us, their lips curling into dark sneers.
Look at her.
She actually had the nerve to show up tonight?
Is that the scholarship girl from the viral video?
Look at the dress.
Jaxon probably paid for every single thread.
My breath pitched in my throat, a wave of panic clawing at my ribs.
The sapphire silk of my dress suddenly felt like a target painted across my back.
Beside me, Jaxon felt my hand tremble where it rested on his forearm.
Without breaking his stride, he reached over with his other hand, covering my fingers with his warm, calloused palm and squeezing tight.
“Head up, Brooks,” Jaxon murmured, his deep, gravelly voice cutting through the suffocating noise in my head.
“You’re the dangerous one in this room. Remember that.”
I forced air into my lungs, straightened my posture, and tilted my chin up.
Before we could take ten steps toward the main floor, a group of elderly, influential men in dark tuxedos stepped into our path.
They were the athletic board’s top financial donors—the men who funded the university’s sports facilities.
“Jaxon!” the tallest donor boomed, clapping a heavy hand onto Jaxon’s shoulder.
“There’s our star player. We’ve been waiting for you in the lounge. The state athletic commissioner wants a word about the tournament schedule.”
Jaxon’s grey eyes narrowed, his body tense as armor.
“I’m busy, Mr. Marvin.”
“It’s about the pro draft, Jaxon,” another donor insisted, stepping closer and effectively blocking our path.
“It won’t take five minutes.”
“Go,” I whispered softly.
“I’ll be fine.”
Jaxon looked down at me, his jaw clenching tightly.
He hesitated, his grey eyes searching my face for any sign of fear.
“Don’t move away from the main floor,” he ordered, his tone low and fiercely protective.
“If anyone gives you trouble, you come straight to me.”
“I can handle myself,” I replied, forcing a tiny, confident smile.
He gave my hand one last, lingering squeeze before letting go, allowing the donors to usher him away toward the private lounge.
The moment Jaxon vanished into the crowd, the protective bubble around me evaporated.
I stood alone near the elaborate ice sculpture carved into the shape of a lion in the center of the room.
The cold air radiating off the ice hit my bare shoulders, sending a sharp shiver down my spine.
I reached for a glass of water from a passing waiter’s silver tray, just to give my hands something to hold.
“Well, well, look what the cat dragged into the event center.”
A sharp, mocking voice pierced through the noise.
I turned slowly.
Cassandra Belmont stood five feet away, surrounded by a tight circle of wealthy, girls, including Chloe from the hallway incident earlier today.
Cassandra looked infuriatingly flawless in a sleeveless white gown, her arms crossed, her eyes cold as polished stone as she took in my sapphire dress.
“I’m surprised you have the audacity to breathe the same air as us, Roxy,” Cassandra said smoothly, stepping closer so her surrounding crowd could hear every word.
“I suppose when you’re a charity case, you don’t have enough self-respect to realize when you aren’t wanted.”
Chloe let out a loud, dramatic laugh, taking a deliberate sip of her champagne.
“Oh, Cassandra, don’t be too hard on her. She’s just doing what girls from her neighborhood do—clinging to a rich boy’s coat-tails for a free ride. How much did that dress cost, Ashenvale? Did you have to beg Jaxon on your knees for it?”
Cruel, muffled giggles erupted from the surrounding circle.
Nearby guests turned their heads, watching the spectacle with amused, arrogant grins.
My heart fluttered against my chest like I was about to take my last breath, but I refused to bow my head.
I took a slow sip of my water, set the glass down on a nearby high-top table, and smoothed the silk of my dress.
“I didn’t beg for anything, Chloe,” I said, my voice steady, clear, and loud enough to carry across the circle.
“Unlike you, I actually earned my spot at this university through intelligence, not because my father runs the athletic department.”
Chloe’s fake smile faltered, her eyes flashing with instant anger.
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me,” I continued, taking a calm step toward her.
I let my eyes sweep over her expensive diamond necklace before locking onto her furious face.
“You talk a lot about charity, Chloe. But wasn’t it your father who got caught reallocating athletic scholarship funds last semester just to cover up the team’s equipment budget deficit?” Get faster updates on novelping dot com.
A collective, sharp gasp echoed through the circle of girls.
Chloe’s face went entirely pale, her jaw dropping open in utter shock.
“That… that is completely false! You don’t know what you’re talking about!”
“It’s public record in the university audit files,” I said, my voice cold, and devoid of mercy.
“If you want, I can pull up the archived report on my phone right now and read it out loud for the room.”
Whispers immediately broke out among the surrounding guests.
Several wealthy mothers gasped behind their lace fans, turning their heads to murmur about Chloe’s family.
Chloe looked around in panic, her face burning a deep, humiliated red.
She opened her mouth to scream at me, her body trembling with rage, but no words came out.
Cassandra’s cold smile vanished.
She stepped in front of Chloe, her dark eyes narrowing into slits as she glared down at me.
“You think you’re so clever, don’t you, Roxy? You think a few sharp words make you equal to us? You’re a temporary distraction. Jaxon is using you to anger his father. When he’s done playing with his shiny new toy from the slums, you’ll be sent right back to where you belong.”
“At least Jaxon actually looks at me when I’m in the room, Cassandra,” I replied smoothly, leaning in just enough so only she could hear my next words.
“He didn’t even touch your hand when he walked past you on the ice.”
Cassandra flinched as if I had slapped her across the face, her hands clenching into tight fists at her sides.
Before Chloe or Cassandra could retaliate, a suffocating silence suddenly fell over our corner of the ballroom.
The crowd of guests opened up, stepping back deferentially as a tall, imposing figure strode through the sea of tuxedos.
Richard Montgomery stepped into the circle.
He looked terrifying.
His dark suit was immaculate, his dead grey eyes fixed entirely on me, ignoring Cassandra and Chloe.
The power radiating off him made the air in the room feel heavy and thin.
“Miss Brooks,” Richard commanded, his deep, terrifying voice cutting through the quiet room like a steel blade.
I stood my ground, my pulse racing, refusing to look down.
“Mr. Montgomery.”
Richard didn’t smile.
He didn’t offer a polite greeting.
He simply turned on his heel, pointing a stiff finger toward the tall glass doors leading out to the private, elevated balcony overlooking the city skyline.
“The balcony,” Richard ordered, his tone flat, cold, and final.
“Now.”