The silence that followed the slap felt heavier than the sound itself. Aria's hand rose slowly to her stinging cheek, her eyes wide with shock rather than pain, disbelief settling over her as she realized what had just happened in front of an entire room of strangers. Nobody moved. Nobody spoke. Servers froze mid-step, trays balanced precariously in their hands, guests near the dance floor turned fully around to witness the unfolding scene.
Camille, seemingly emboldened rather than embarrassed by her own actions, straightened her shoulders and continued, her voice carrying easily across the stunned ballroom. "You are a pregnant shadow," she said coldly, each word deliberate and cutting. "You don't belong near these people."
The insult landed with brutal clarity, and for a brief moment, Aria felt the familiar sting of being underestimated, dismissed, judged entirely by her appearance rather than anything she had actually done or said. It wasn't the first time in her life she had experienced this particular kind of cruelty, though it had certainly never happened this publicly, this viciously.
"I never asked to belong here," Aria replied quietly, her voice steady despite the tears threatening at the corners of her eyes. "I was simply standing quietly, hoping not to bother anyone."
"Then leave," Camille snapped, "before I make you." The threat hung in the air, ugly and unmistakable, drawing quiet gasps from a few guests nearby who finally seemed to register the severity of what was unfolding. A young waiter near the edge of the room lowered his tray slightly, clearly torn between professional discretion and basic human decency.
Aria took a small step backward, her hands trembling slightly as she reached for her clutch purse, suddenly desperate to leave the humiliating scene behind entirely. In her haste, her fingers fumbled against the delicate clasp, and something small and metallic slipped free, falling from her grasp before she even realized it was gone.
It struck the red carpet with a soft, barely audible thud, rolling gently to a stop just a few feet from where Camille stood, still glaring triumphantly at the woman she believed she had successfully humiliated into submission.