His Final Betrayal Was My First Move Chapter 27

His Final Betrayal Was My First Move Chapter 27

Through a Harvard alumni board member named Mark, Daphne organized an Ivy League alumni mixer. She had only mentioned casually that she wanted to get together with old friends, and Mark, who had always been eager to please her, immediately understood and began making arrangements.

The gathering was set at a rooftop bar in a Back Bay hotel, with a view over all of Boston at night.

Amelia hadn’t wanted to go. She no longer wanted any interaction with Daphne or their shared past. But Mark had messaged her several times on LinkedIn, enthusiastically emphasizing that the gathering could introduce many valuable donors to the Coastal Art Education Foundation she was preparing.

For the sake of the foundation, she came.

When she arrived, the party was already in full swing. Glamorous men and women held champagne flutes and chatted over low jazz. Amelia scanned the room and didn’t see Daphne.

She let out a breath and was about to walk toward a finance alum who might be interested in her foundation when Mark came over, glass in hand.

He wore a perfectly warm smile, but his voice was loud enough for the people in several surrounding booths to hear.

“Amelia! So glad you could make it!” He paused, then shifted the conversation with exaggerated surprise. “Oh, by the way, I heard you and Griffin filed for divorce. Is that true?”

In an instant, the lively conversations around them seemed to mute. More than a dozen pairs of eyes shot over, full of undisguised curiosity.

Amelia’s fingers tightened on her clutch, but her face remained calm.

“Yes,” she said, meeting their gazes frankly. “The court has already issued the ruling.”

She didn’t think it needed to be hidden. It was better to announce it now and avoid trouble later.

“My God, why?” another woman cut in, her tone full of regret. “Griffin is so exceptional, a partner at the Whitaker Foundation… How could you bear to let him go?”

“Irreconcilable differences,” Amelia answered with the official legal term, not wanting to waste another word on the issue.

“Oh, Amelia, I’m so sorry for you.” A well-dressed alumna spoke lightly, holding a martini, a faint smile playing on her lips. “But I heard Griffin and Daphne are finally together. I’m so happy for them. After all, you know, Griffin’s feelings for Daphne… we’ve all been watching them for years.”

The words were like a poison-coated needle, puncturing the false calm of the scene.

“Exactly,” Mark immediately chimed in, his tone carrying the excitement of someone recounting a legend. “Griffin’s devotion to Daphne, that’s what you call unwavering. Amelia, honestly, if Daphne hadn’t pushed him toward you back then, would you ever have had the chance to marry into the Whitaker family?”

“Speaking of which, you really should send Daphne a thank-you card,” someone else added with a laugh. “Without her, you wouldn’t have even gotten a taste of this kind of life.”

No one directly insulted her. With smiling, condescending “regret” and “blessings,” they completely excluded her. They quietly affirmed Daphne’s “victory” while defining Amelia as a substitute who had luckily risen in status and had now been put back in her place.

This wasn’t a public denunciation. It was silent social strangulation. Every “for your own good” piece of advice, every sigh of “such a pity,” nailed her to a pillar of shame.

Amelia’s face grew colder. Her blood seemed to freeze in her veins. She looked at these familiar yet unfamiliar faces. They had been her classmates, guests at her wedding. Now they were like a flock of elegant vultures, fighting to peck at her dignity.

Seeing her expression, Mark leaned closer with feigned concern and lowered his voice.

“Amelia, you’re not angry, are you? We’re all friends here. Just chatting.”

Another voice quickly followed. “We didn’t say anything that wasn’t true. It’s all fact. Don’t be so sensitive, Amelia.”