Chapter 462 Who Let You Come
Eight O'Clock: The Presidential Gala
The ballroom was packed with guests as the gala officially began. Everyone in attendance at the President's birthday celebration belonged to the upper echelons of society—the wealthy and powerful elite.
The evening's hosts, Anouk and Zephyr, made their entrance together—a sight that surprised many guests. In everyone's recollection, the couple rarely appeared at events simultaneously. Even at important functions where Anouk's presence would have been expected, she was notably absent.
After the brief, formal opening remarks, the true nature of the event became apparent: a grand networking affair filled with flattery and business connections. Zephyr's special status kept most guests at a respectful distance, leaving them to offer birthday wishes from afar.
Half an hour into the evening, Thomas sighed with boredom.
"This gala is dreadfully dull," he complained to Victoria. "Didn't you already handle your business? Why are we still here?"
He wouldn't leave without her.
Victoria glanced at him coolly. "Weren't you enjoying your conversations earlier?"
"Can't help it," Thomas shrugged. "My charm is irresistible."
For twenty minutes of the past half-hour, he'd been cornered by eager conversationalists. Even strangers seemed drawn to him.
Victoria ignored his self-admiration and simply said, "I'm watching the show."
"What? What show?" Thomas perked up immediately.
"You'll see soon enough," she replied mysteriously, her expression impassive.
Thomas looked toward Alexander, hoping for some insider information, but quickly abandoned the idea upon seeing his cold demeanor.
He quite liked Alexander—the man had everything one could want—but found him excessively reserved and rigid. Thomas had never seen him smile.
"Vicky, doesn't it get you down being married to someone so stone-faced? He never cracks a smile! Not once have I seen it." Thomas suddenly said.
Alexander remained silent.
Victoria rolled her eyes. "He only smiles for me. Of course you wouldn't see it."
Thomas fell silent, momentarily speechless.
After a pause, she added, "If he smiled at you, that would be strange."
Thomas didn't understand what was odd about a man smiling at another man.
Suddenly, music filled the ballroom as the host's voice announced, "Ladies and gentlemen, it's time for dancing. Please invite a friend or someone special to join you on the dance floor."
Almost immediately, Victoria spotted Waverly approaching with elegant, measured steps.
"She's coming for Alexander, isn't she?" Thomas whispered with a hint of mischievous delight.
Alexander ignored him.
Thomas wasn't wrong—Waverly was indeed approaching Alexander.
"Mr. Howard, may I have the honor of a dance?" she asked, then turned to Victoria in her wheelchair. "Ms. Kennedy, would you mind?"
Victoria met her gaze with a smile.
Everyone knew Waverly's intentions. While others addressed Victoria as Alexander's wife, Waverly deliberately avoided the term.
"What if I said I do mind?" Victoria countered.
Waverly responded smoothly, "I understand, but Ms. Kennedy, you can rest assured—I simply want to dance. With so many people watching, what could there be to worry about?"
"If you weren't... indisposed... I wouldn't be asking Mr. Howard to dance at all," she added.
Victoria understood the subtle mockery in her words, but such petty jabs meant nothing to her.
She smiled calmly. "Very well, Miss Windsor. If you're so eager and can convince him, by all means, go ahead." She made a gracious gesture of invitation.
Thomas and the others watched from the sidelines.
Alexander glanced at the back of Victoria's head with a slight frown, his eyes filled with indulgence and resignation.
Waverly's smile deepened, a flash of triumph in her eyes.
Across the room, Zephyr observed the situation with furrowed brows. He knew Waverly admired Alexander's talent and abilities, but hadn't paid much attention to it before—such matters weren't his concern.
But now, Alexander was Victoria's husband. If Waverly intended to come between them, it was no longer simple admiration but something more problematic.
He already felt indebted to Victoria, so...
"Mr. Howard, I..." Waverly looked up at Alexander with a brilliant smile.
Unfortunately, before she could finish, Alexander coldly interrupted her.
"I'm sorry, Miss Windsor, but I only dance with my wife," he said in a deep, magnetic voice that was equally chilling.
Waverly's radiant smile froze awkwardly on her face.
Alexander's rejection was direct and absolute, with no consideration for her status as a Presidential Palace socialite.
She had expected that even if reluctant, he would accept her invitation out of respect for the occasion and her position, especially with so many people watching.
But she had underestimated Alexander's character.
Waverly clearly didn't understand him, relying on her own assumptions or treating him like an ordinary man. She forgot who Alexander truly was.
"Mr. Howard, I just wanted to dance with you. I missed the opportunity at the school anniversary, and thought I could make up for that regret now that we've met again," she persisted shamelessly.
People nearby overheard and turned to look. The earlier conversation between Waverly and Victoria had already drawn attention.
Many had assumed Alexander and Victoria were dating or friends, but hearing him say "wife" clarified their relationship.
The crowd's perception of Waverly shifted, particularly among married women. Her expression and behavior now resembled someone trying to interfere in another's marriage.
Whispers spread through the ballroom.
"My God, isn't Waverly a Presidential Palace socialite? Why is she suddenly so persistent about dancing with a married man?"
"Exactly! Reports always described her as graceful and proper, but this is hardly appropriate."
"He clearly refused, yet she continues with these passive-aggressive comments."
"She's gone too far. So what if she missed her chance? He has no obligation to fulfill her 'regrets.' She sounds like she's trying to manipulate him."
"Is she actually trying to break up a marriage?"
The murmurs, mostly from women, grew louder. In moments like these, women understood other women and could see through Waverly's true intentions.
Waverly's expression darkened with displeasure. She never expected such a reaction.
Victoria hadn't anticipated it either, but it worked in her favor—no intervention needed on her part.
She remained comfortably seated in her wheelchair, content to observe without comment.
"Wendy, what are you doing here?" a deep male voice suddenly called out.
Everyone turned to see a man in a blue-gray suit approaching.
Some recognized him as Holden Windsor, Hayes's eldest son—Zephyr's nephew.
"Holden!" Waverly turned toward him with relief, as if spotting reinforcements.
Victoria studied Holden, noting his handsome mixed-race features. Was Hayes's wife foreign? That didn't seem right.
"Who might these people be?" Holden asked, looking at Victoria's group.
His gaze lingered on Victoria for a few extra seconds. Something seemed strangely familiar.
Waverly made the introductions.
The couple merely nodded coldly—or rather, only Victoria nodded. Alexander didn't acknowledge them at all.
Holden looked at Victoria with raised eyebrows. "Ms. Kennedy resembles someone I know."
He had an attractive smile, with well-proportioned, defined features.
Victoria responded with a cool smile of her own. "Really? You knew my mother?"
Her voice carried a blend of coolness, languid curiosity, and subtle sarcasm.
Holden paused, unexpectedly at a loss for words.
Thomas laughed without restraint.
"Sir, your pickup line is terribly outdated," he advised helpfully, then added, "Though she's right—she does look remarkably like her mother. Perhaps you really did meet her."
Holden frowned slightly. In truth, he'd been thinking of someone else entirely.
Waverly, misinterpreting his expression, thought he might be interested in Victoria.
The dark cloud that had gathered in her mind suddenly dispersed. Her cousin was known for his playboy tendencies, and if he...
A plan began forming in her mind.
"Holden loves to joke, Ms. Kennedy. Please don't take offense," she said smoothly, attempting to salvage the situation.
Then she added, "Since Alexander doesn't have time to dance, I won't intrude any further."
With that, she turned and gracefully departed, maintaining her dignity.
No one noticed the calculating gleam in her eyes as she turned away.
Holden also left, having no real connection to the group.
After a dance ended, Winter whispered in Victoria's ear, "Victoria, Eugene says everything is arranged."
Victoria nodded. "Good, understood."
Shortly after, Alexander received a phone call and stepped away to a quieter area.
Suddenly, Thomas shouted, "Vicky, look out!"
His warning was followed by a scream and the sound of breaking glass.
Thomas couldn't pull Victoria away in time—her wheelchair made it impossible.
A server carrying a tray with several wine glasses and a bottle stumbled, and somehow, the red wine splashed all over Victoria and Kimberly.
Victoria frowned at her white shirt, now stained crimson, and her soaked pants.
Thomas reacted quickly, removing his jacket and placing it over Victoria.
"Winter, take her to change clothes," he said with a frown.
The incident was clearly deliberate. The server had been walking normally when she suddenly tripped over her own feet.
Thomas had seen it happen but couldn't intervene in time.
Winter and Kimberly wheeled Victoria out of the ballroom to the upstairs rest area.
After escorting them out of the elevator, Winter said, "Victoria, I'll get you both some clothes. Wait in the lounge."
She then returned to the elevator.
Kimberly pushed Victoria into the lounge.
After a minute or two, a loud noise came from outside.
Both women looked toward the door.
"Mrs. Howard, I'll check what's happening," Kimberly said.
"Alright, go ahead."
Shortly after Kimberly left, someone knocked on the door.
Victoria frowned slightly as a female voice called through the door. "Is Ms. Kennedy in there? I'm here to deliver clothes. A lady gave them to me—she said she had an urgent matter and asked me to help you change."
Victoria replied, "The door's unlocked. Come in."
The door opened, and a young woman in a Hearst Castle staff uniform entered.
Victoria glanced at the clothes in her arms and said coolly, "Just put them on the sofa."
"Of course, Ms. Kennedy," the server replied.
After placing the clothes down, she didn't leave.
Victoria looked at her questioningly. "Is there something else?"
The server gave her a professional smile. "Ms. Kennedy, with your injury, you might have difficulty changing alone. Would you like some assistance?"
Victoria considered briefly, then nodded. "Yes, that would be helpful."
A gleam flashed in the woman's eyes, but she missed the coldness in Victoria's gaze.
The woman picked up the clothes again and moved behind Victoria's wheelchair to push her toward the bathroom.
Halfway there, she suddenly stopped with a cry of pain.
"You... you can stand?" she gasped, staring in horror as Victoria rose from the wheelchair.
Someone had told her Victoria was helpless, but now...
The woman had been reaching for a cloth soaked in sedative hidden under the clothes, intending to render Victoria unconscious. But before she could, Victoria had seized her wrist with lightning speed.
Victoria gripped the woman's wrist with her uninjured hand, applying enough pressure to bring tears to the woman's eyes.
In reality, Victoria's legs were uninjured—the wheelchair was only to avoid straining her back wound.
By the second day, she could have walked normally, but Alexander had insisted she use the wheelchair for recovery, and she hadn't argued.
"Tell me who sent you," Victoria demanded, her eyes cold.
The woman stubbornly replied, "It was one of the women with you. She asked me to bring you clothes."
Victoria smiled coldly. "I see you don't want to tell the truth."
At that moment, Kimberly and Winter returned together.
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