Ophelia’s face burned as guests nearby glanced her way, whispering.
She stood there in her stunning red gown, feeling suddenly cheap and out of place.
Before she could turn away in defeat, Nicholas and Liora appeared, arm in arm, looking every bit the power couple.
“Ophelia?” Nicholas’s voice dripped with fake surprise as he saw her.
“You actually showed up? After everything?”
Liora’s silver dress shimmered as she tilted her head, her engagement ring catching the light.
“This is priceless. You really think wearing a pretty dress and showing your face here will make anyone forget what your father did? This gala is about innovation and ethics. Your family’s tainted drugs killed people. No one wants that kind of poison near their investments.”
She felt speechless at this, she couldn’t but wondered if they had made Liora come in her place to this party.
Nicholas chuckled, loud enough for others to hear.
“Look around. People are already avoiding you. Do you honestly believe any serious researcher or investor will want to be associated with the daughter of a man facing those charges? You’re a walking liability. Go home before you embarrass the entire medical community again. Some of us are here to actually build something.”
The words sliced deep, especially in this environment where Ophelia had once been celebrated.
Several prominent figures turned away, creating a visible circle of exclusion around her.
Humiliation clawed at her throat.
She felt exposed despite the beautiful gown reduced to nothing more than her family’s scandal in front of the very people she needed for her career.
“Run along… so as not to embarrass yourself more, Little Miss Red.” Liora’s voice dripped with hatred as she and Nicholas exchanged wicked laughter, turning away in triumph.
Ophelia stood frozen at the checkpoint, cheeks burning.
“Ma’am, please step aside or I will have to call security,” the guard repeated firmly.
She nodded weakly, trying to slip to the side, her hands trembling.
Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes.
Just as humiliation threatened to swallow her whole, a calm, authoritative voice sliced through the tension.
“Dr. Cater.”
Ophelia turned, confused.
There, approaching with smooth confidence, was Elias Tristan’s assistant.
Everyone connected to Tristan seemed to.
“Mr. Bennet has requested her presence inside,” Elias announced to the guards.
“There’s been an oversight. She is with Mr. Bennet’s party.”
The guards straightened immediately.
“Of course, sir. Right this way, Dr. Cater. Our apologies.”
Ophelia was stunned by the sudden shift.
She could barely speak as Elias escorted her past the checkpoint with clear respect.
Nicholas and Liora’s expressions soured the moment they spotted her entering the grand ballroom.
Crystal chandeliers glittered overhead like scattered stars, casting light across the elite of the medical world researchers, investors, and CEOs mingling in clusters of whispered deals and calculated smiles.
Ophelia retreated to a quieter corner, still reeling from the public dismissal.
Old colleagues offered tight, pitying smiles before turning away.
“I will be right back,” Elias said before disappearing into the crowd.
Ophelia stood there, heart pounding, waiting.
Then the announcer’s voice boomed through the hall:
“Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome our special guest and one of tonight’s keynote contributors, the man we have all been waiting for Mr. Tristan Bennet, CEO and Chairman of the Elite Medical Empire.”
Tristan entered with commanding grace, his tall frame cutting through the room like a blade.
The perfectly tailored black tuxedo accentuated his powerful presence, and his pale grey eyes swept the crowd before locking onto Ophelia instantly.
She remembered his earlier warning about staying away from Nicholas.
A wave of guilt and nervousness surged through her.
Moments later, Elias reappeared at her side.
“Dr. Cater, Mr. Bennet has added you to the speaker list. You are on stage shortly. The topic is ‘Ethical Challenges and Breakthroughs in Nerve Regeneration Therapies Amid Industry Scandal.'”
Ophelia’s heart slammed against her ribs.
“That’s… one of the most exclusive slots. How…”
“He said he trusts you to know exactly what to do. The audience awaits.”
This was the opportunity she had dreamed of for years, one she had been repeatedly denied.
She wasn’t about to let it slip away.
Just then Nicholas pushed through the crowd with Liora too.
“Ophelia, why is Elias with you?” he demanded.
Elias glanced at him coolly.
“Mr. Raven. Good evening.”
“I don’t need your greeting,” Nicholas snapped.
Elias simply shrugged and walked off.
Ophelia swallowed hard.
She turned to leave, but Nicholas grabbed her arm.
“I asked you a question, Ophelia.”
She met his gaze and scoffed.
“I’ve been given the opportunity to speak. Satisfied?”
“Ophelia, don’t be a fool. This isn’t your crowd anymore. You will only make things worse for yourself and your father. Stay in the corner where you belong.”
“Excuse me?” Shock and anger flared in her chest but grip tightened around her wrist as he tried to pull her.
“Stay away from Tristan. He can be dangerous.”
Ophelia wanted to retort, but across the room, Tristan’s steady, detached gaze met hers.
It gave her strength and defiance sparked within her.
This is my field I don’t have to fear.
“I am going,” she said firmly, pulling her arm free.
“And you are not stopping me.”
The walk to the stage felt eternal.
Cameras flashed as her crimson gown flowed behind her like liquid fire.
She gripped the podium, pulse thundering in her ears, and faced the sea of skeptical faces.