CHAPTER 166: WHEN QUEENS RISE AFTER THE FALL
As Cassandra and Belle moved into the crowd, the atmosphere buzzed with luxury and ambition. Soft jazz played in the background while the clinking of glasses and murmurs of conversations filled the space like music of power and wealth.
Cassandra was the first to break off, her sharp eyes scanning the room for high-value targets. It didn't take her long to locate a group of tech investors seated by the wine bar. She tossed Belle a wink before gliding in that direction, her charisma already doing half the work.
Belle hesitated. For a moment, she just stood there, watching her friend work the room with ease and confidence. Then she sighed, squared her shoulders, and turned the other way. She wasn't about to let Cassandra outshine her—not tonight.
As she walked, she noticed heads turning. Her gown shimmered under the golden lights, hugging her figure in all the right places. A few men gave appreciative glances, and Belle smiled politely. She may not be Cassandra, but she wasn't invisible either.
She reached a group of mid-level executives chatting by the dessert table and inserted herself gracefully, laughing at the right moments and slowly slipping her business card to each one like a seasoned pro.
Somewhere across the room, John watched both women from a distance with his wine glass in hand, smirking as they moved through the room like two queens on separate chessboards.
"They're biting," he murmured to himself. "Let's see how far they'll go."
He turned his attention to his phone, tapping quickly.
Message to James:
"Both women in. Belle has started handing out her cards. Cassandra's deep in the investor circle. Diana hasn't shown up yet to the press. Still waiting on your cue, boss."
He put the phone away and leaned against the bar, pretending to be just another handsome guest enjoying the party, when in truth, he was the spider spinning the web.
Meanwhile, at the other end of the hall, Diana emerged briefly from backstage, clipboard in hand, checking last-minute details. Her eyes scanned the lighting, the DJ setup, the flow of servers—everything was going perfectly.
She hadn't seen Belle or Cassandra yet—and she didn't plan to seek them out either. Right now, her priority was delivering an unforgettable party.
"Diana, we're ready for the main lights drop in 10," one of the staff whispered.
She nodded, completely in work mode. "Cue the lighting and prepare the cake for stage entry. Get Toby's spotlight ready in fifteen."
The staff scurried away, and Diana inhaled deeply. This was her moment.
But somewhere deep inside her… a strange flutter nagged at her chest. It was faint, almost like a whisper.
She brushed it off and squared her shoulders.
"Nothing is going wrong tonight," she told herself. "Not on my watch."
While they were mingling, they came in contact with Diana, who was moving about the room with effortless grace, networking like a seasoned pro, her presence turning heads as the organizer of the entire show. She looked flawless, confident, and completely in control.
"Well, well, well… look what the cat dragged in," Cassandra drawled with a sneer.
"Diana-fucking-Margaret-bitchy-Alfred," Belle chorused, her voice laced with venom.
Diana had the grace to chuckle, clearly unbothered. "The weapons fashioned against me, arriving in heels and hubris. I should've known you'd come riding on the goat's back. That's if you didn't trip and ruin your ass on the way here."
Belle's jaw tightened. Cassandra's face contorted, but she tried to keep her cool so Diana wouldn't see she was getting to her.
Diana glanced at their expressions and smiled even wider. "What? Am I suddenly too much for you two to handle?"
"Says the whore parading herself in front of guests just because her husband isn't here to monitor her movements," Belle spat.
Cassandra turned to her partner in hate, smirking. "You mean the man she stole from me."
"I thought you said she snatched him," Belle fired back. Then turned to Diana. "You'll always be shameless to the core, right?"
Diana let out a short laugh as she pinched the bridge of her nose. "Cassandra. Belle. It's always the same tired nonsense with you two. Nose deep in what doesn't concern you, causing chaos where there's peace. Honestly, a goat could learn manners faster, and a stray dog has more direction."
"And here I was thinking you were the saint," Cassandra snapped.
"Diana, you just wait. You're going to get it hot from me," Belle hissed.
Just then, a waiter walked past with a tray of drinks. Cassandra subtly slid her leg out, thinking no one was watching.
The waiter tripped, drinks crashing to the ground and over Diana.
She gasped as the cold liquid drenched her, sparkling liquid ruining her dress, just as the waiter tumbled toward her. Beatrice, who'd been watching Diana like a hawk all evening, moved fast. She shoved the waiter aside and caught Diana just before she could hit the floor.
But Belle, not done yet, gave a coded nudge with her foot.
Diana slipped again, this time dragging Beatrice down with her. They both hit the floor hard.
Gasps rippled through the crowd.
Some guests murmured words of pity. Others whispered behind hands. But most stood stunned, watching the drama unfold like a scene out of a messy reality show.
Right at that moment, the celebrant of the evening chose to make his grand entrance.
"Look who finally decided to show up to his own party!" a guest shouted playfully.
Heads turned, as applause erupted.
And just like that, the crowd's attention shifted.
Beatrice seized the moment. She scrambled up, pulled Diana with her, and slipped them both out of the hall unnoticed.
Outside, Beatrice helped Diana to steady herself.
"Ma'am, are you okay? Are you hurt anywhere?" she asked, voice low and urgent.
Diana didn't respond right away. Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears, her jaw tight as she blinked them back. "I'm fine, Beatrice," she finally said, though her voice cracked. "Just… get me a change of clothes. I'll wait in the restroom."
Beatrice nodded solemnly and supported her toward the ladies' room.
"Ma'am, lock the door. Don't open for anyone. Only when you hear my voice."
Diana nodded. She stepped inside, locked the door, and leaned against it, letting out a deep, shaky breath.
Inside the ladies' restroom, Diana stood still, her palms pressed against the cold marble sink. Her eyes locked on her reflection; makeup ruined, lips trembling, and her dress, once perfect, now stained and dull.
But it wasn't the fall that got to her. No. It was the intent behind it.
She took in a long, steady breath and held it until the sting in her eyes faded. There was no room for weakness tonight. Not in front of women who'd rather see her crawl than rise.
A soft knock broke through her thoughts. "Ma'am, it's Beatrice."
She opened the door. Beatrice stepped in quickly and locked it behind her.
"I brought the backup dress," she said, holding out the garment bag. "Makeup artist is already in position. She'll fix you up quickly and quietly."
Diana unzipped the bag and saw it, the emerald gown. Sleek, bold, the kind that spoke louder than a hundred words.
"You picked right," she said.
Beatrice helped her out of the ruined dress and into the new one. She zipped her up, brushed her hair back into a sharp style, and fixed the earrings.
"You good?"
Diana stared at her reflection again. The softness was gone. What remained was cold, calm steel.
"I'm better than good," she replied.
They slipped out the back route toward the main hall, unnoticed.
Inside, the party was peaking. Glasses clinked. Guests laughed. Cameras flashed.
Cassandra and Belle were still in their corner, drinking and giggling like two schoolgirls. Their sabotage had worked, or so they thought
Across the room, Toby Champion was in the middle of a laugh with foreign guests, completely unaware that the woman behind the entire event had just been publicly humiliated.
But that was about to change.
Because Diana was back.
She stepped into the hall like she owned the place.
The gown, emerald green, like the kind queens wore in war, wrapped her body like it was poured on her. The neckline dipped just enough to turn heads, crystals lining it like a trail of stars. The back? Bare, smooth, perfect. A thin gold chain ran across her spine like a whisper no one could ignore.
Her waist was snatched, the bodice sharp and clean. The skirt floated behind her, long, layered, dramatic, each step she took leaving a soft ripple in its wake.
Her gloves matched the dress. Her earrings sparkled. And her face? Fully fixed. Fully composed.
She wasn't just wearing a dress.
She was the damn moment.
People turned. Gasps followed. Even the music seemed to dim, like the room itself knew something had shifted.
Because Diana didn't just re-enter the party.
She came to remind them who they were dealing with.