Left alone to endure the whispers and scorn of the onlookers, Hazel felt the humiliation seep into her very bones. Her face burned crimson, though whether from the alcohol or the unbearable shame, she couldn’t tell.
Without a word, she fled the engagement party, her footsteps echoing like a desperate escape into the night.
It was nearly impossible to hail a cab at this hour. After wandering through the deserted streets for over three hours, the cold wind gnawed at her skin and left her head pounding. Eventually, she stumbled her way back to Belmont Villa.
As soon as she stepped onto the first floor, Hazel saw them in her bridal suite, locked in a tight embrace, whispering words that only lovers could share.
Her chest tightened, but she forced herself to turn on the surveillance camera, piecing together the scattered fragments to reveal the truth.
It turned out that while she had been blissfully unaware, Ambrose and Scarlett had shared a scandalous past.
Eight years ago, in a bid to shed the label of a privileged heir, Ambrose had ventured into entrepreneurship. But his ambitions crumbled, and he teetered on the edge of ruin.