Game Over, Mr. Devoss: Your Wife Is Gone

Isla's POV

 From the towering gates, I could spot guests in the garden and the golden light spilling over the perfectly trimmed hedges. I stood there, trying to shake off the nervousness that had gripped me. I smoothed the fabric of my dress shakily.

 I finally took a deep breath and reached for the door handle. As soon as I stepped in, I looked around the room, already feeling out of place. The room was filled with people–rich people, dressed impeccably and this was the main reason I never attended her birthday parties or any other functions she held in the first place. It was like she only invited me to remind me of how much of a low class I was and how I would never fit in.

 I looked around the room, searching for a familiar face, my husband, Jaxon, or my mother–in–law, Auriela, who invited me to this hellhole filled with rich assholes who acted like they had a huge stick stuck up their proud asses every time.

The plan was to find her, wish her a happy birthday, and find a way to get the hell out of the party. But first I need some alcohol in my system, that's the only way I can survive talking to that woman. I spotted a champagne tower, which will have to do.

I was just a few steps away when I heard it. “Isla!”I didn't need to turn to know who it was.

 I stopped in my tracks and turned, my fake smile in place. She found me first, and I had no d*mn alcohol in my system.

 “You came,” she uttered, “ I must say, I'm surprised that you– God what is that awful dress that you are wearing?”

 I looked down at my dress, confused. There was nothing wrong with my dress. It was beautiful and perfect for a birthday party. But I said nothing in return– I just let her downgrade me as usual. Someone else passed us with the same dress but just a different color, and I stared at her knowingly. 

 She scoffed. “I think I’ve realized that you are the problem and not the dress.”

Oh for the love of God. “Happy Birthday Auriela,” I smiled sweetly. 

“Yes, yes, thank you,” she said. “Enjoy the party and please the love of God don't go embarrassing yourself by jeopardizing my party.” 

   “I will try my best,” I answered.

"And while you're here, you should learn a thing or two from the ladies,” Auriela said, eying me. “Like how to dress for example. Although I know a dress can never change who you are, it can try. That way, maybe I could dislike you less.”

I rolled my eyes internally. I was used to her talking down on me all the time and it had little or no effect on me anymore. “Thank you, Auriela, you always say the sweetest things,” I replied.

 “There's enough food to go around, and drinks as well. Make sure to stuff yourself with things you wouldn't have had the luxury of tasting if you didn't get your waitress-stricken claws into my son.”

That was the last thing she said to me before she strode off. “God, I need a d*mn drink,”  I muttered as I made my way to the champagne tower I spotted earlier. I was about to reach for a glass when someone bumped into me, hard. The force sent me stumbling forward, and before I could react, my heel snagged on the hem of my dress.

 "No, no, no!" I gasped. I flailed my arms, hoping I could stabilize myself. But it was too late.

 I tumbled straight into the champagne tower.  Glass flutes teetered, then came crashing down, shattering on the floor. The delicate sound of breaking glass echoed in the room, followed by the unmistakable splash of champagne spilling everywhere.

 I froze, horrified, as the cold champagne soaked into my dress, clinging to my skin and dripping onto the pristine Persian rug beneath me. 

For a split second, the entire room seemed to hold its breath. And then, the whispers started.

"Who the hell is that?

“She ruined the whole display!”

 “Did you see that? Pathetic.”

“She can’t even walk properly.”

I didn’t dare look up. I could feel all eyes on me, watching, and judging, but no one made a move to help. They didn’t care that I was on the floor, humiliated. If anything, they were probably enjoying the show.

I blinked back tears, wiping my damp hands on the front of my now-ruined dress. The fabric clung to me, heavy and uncomfortable, reminding me of how out of place I was here. My chest tightened as the whispers grew louder, and harsher, feeding into the pit of shame growing inside me. So much so that I didn't realize that shards of glass had pierced my arm.

Blood trickled slowly down my arm, mixed with the champagne that I was covered in.

"Look at her. She looks like she doesn't even belong here."

 I saw Auriela, standing just a few feet away from me. She had her usual cold look, her lips were pressed into a tight, disapproving line, her eyes narrowing as she took in the mess I had made. 

There wasn't a trace of sympathy in her gaze, only pure disdain.

I wanted to say something, to apologize, but my throat felt tight, my voice trapped beneath the weight of my embarrassment. 

I lowered my head to the ground, trying to hide my face in shame. The weight of my embarrassment felt heavy on my shoulders, and I wished I could just disappear. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a pair of polished leather shoes and elegant heels stepping closer until they stopped right in front of me.

When I dared to look up, I realized it was my husband, but he was standing next to another woman who was holding onto his arm. The bright lights from the chandelier above made it difficult to see clearly, creating a blur around their figures. Despite the shimmering light, I couldn't miss the look of disgust that twisted his features. It pierced through me like a knife, leaving me feeling even more exposed and vulnerable.