CHAPTER NINE

Felix watched the entire exchange with narrowed eyes.

He shifted in his seat, eyes on Alma, who had just taken out a phone and was quietly tapping away near the service tent. Then she looked toward the piano and smiled faintly.

Something was coming. Felix could feel it.

As guests settled into their seats, waiters in crisp black uniforms began moving between the tables, refilling glasses and placing warm bread baskets before the attendees. Laughter bubbled here and there, the evening light dimming to a soft amber as lanterns flickered to life overhead.

Viviana stood up once more, microphone in hand, her eyes gleaming with mischief masked in charm.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” she said with a playful grin, “before dinner officially begins, I thought it would be fun to bring back something we did last year—our little game of ‘Do or Give.’”

Scattered applause rose around the courtyard.

“The rules are simple,” Viviana continued. “If I call on you and you complete a little dare — fun and harmless, I promise — you’re safe. But if you’d rather not, then you donate fifty thousand dollars to the orphanage. Win-win, right?”

The crowd murmured with amusement.

She turned theatrically toward Adrian. “Let’s start with someone familiar… Mr. Reyes, will you stand and sing us a song? I’m asking you because I know your limits when it comes to singing and I can almost see a cheque of fifty thousand dollars in my hands in a few minutes”

Adrian raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. He stood slowly, buttoned his coat with flair, and pulled out a gold-plated pen from his breast pocket.

“You know me so well. I’ll spare you all the agony,” he said with a sly smile, scribbling on a check. “But I’ll donate gladly.”

He handed the cheque to a passing staff member. Laughter and applause erupted.

“Well played,” Viviana said, winking.

She continued around the tables, daring a senator to recite a tongue twister and an elderly donor to perform a silly dance. Most chose to give, but the energy remained light-hearted.

Still, Felix, from his seat at the edge, watched carefully. Something in Viviana’s movements had shifted — her charm too sharp, her attention too pointed.

Then she turned her eyes on the children.

“Alright, little stars,” she cooed. “Who else should we dare next?” the same staff who had brought the piano leaned towards one of the kids and whispered something to his ear.

The child rose up and slowly pointed towards Amelia.

“Well done. That’s my friend Amelia”

Amelia’s heart skipped a beat. She turned to Vincent, who was smiling supportively. Viviana clasped her hands in mock delight.

“What should we ask our lovely Amelia to do?”

“We want her to play the piano and sing us a song!” the children all said in a chorus. Like it was rehearsed.

Viviana’s expression flickered — just for a heartbeat — before she turned to Amelia, her voice sugary. “Well, what do you say? Or shall we call it a generous donation?”

The crowd laughed lightly, but Amelia’s face had drained of color. She glanced at the piano, then back at the audience. Her palms were damp, her throat dry. She had no money to give.

Viviana’s voice turned gently taunting. “You do know how to play, don’t you?”

Amelia forced a breath through her nose and stood. She walked slowly to the piano, eyes down, every step heavier than the last. A hush fell as she sat on the velvet-covered stool, her fingers hovering over the ivory keys.She didn’t move.

For a long moment, the silence stretched. Murmurs rippled through the guests. Alma took out her phone and started recording. It was as if all this was rehearsed beforehand.

But then — with her eyes closed — Amelia pressed a single note. Then another. Her hands found a melody buried in her muscle memory. And as if a switch had flipped, she let herself fall into it.

Viviana was caught off-guard, she had expected to embarrass Amelia, in front of the guests but the surprise was on her. Her face tightened slightly, then she composed herself.

Then she began to sing. Her voice was soft at first — tremulous but angelic. As the melody blossomed, so did her confidence. Her voice filled the courtyard, rich and haunting, like a wind weaving through the trees. Heads turned. Forks stopped clinking. The staff paused to listen. Even Alma, who had been hoping to humiliate Amelia was awed by her voice. By the time Amelia reached the chorus, her voice had bloomed fully, pouring emotion into every word. Her fingers danced over the piano, her body swaying slightly, her expression serene. When the final note drifted into silence, there was a pause — and then an explosion of applause.

Everyone rose to their feet. Vincent stood proudly, clapping the loudest. Even Felix at the corner gave a single nod of approval. Amelia flushed, overwhelmed and surprised.

But just as she leaned forward to rise, something caught. Her dress. She tried again — nothing. Her skirt was stuck to the stool. A sharp tug. Still stuck.

Viviana and her friend Alma had planned a full blown humiliation on Amelia. People noticed. The applause dimmed into confusion. Amelia tugged again, harder this time. Then gasps — and a few stifled chuckles — broke out from the front rows. Her back had partially come free of her dress. Someone had applied glue to the stool. And she was stuck.

A ripple of laughter spread, beginning with the younger guests. Amelia’s eyes darted around in panic. Alma, now off to the side, lifted her phone and began recording again with subtle movements. A cheeky smile plastered on her face.

“Help her,” someone whispered.

Viviana sprang up, her face a perfect mask of concern. “Oh my goodness! Someone assist her — her dress is stuck!” It was more to let those who hadn’t noticed know exactly what was going on with Amelia’s wardrobe malfunction masked as concern. A guard stepped forward and tried to help Amelia stand. The moment he pulled — rrrip — the back of her dress tore clean off, revealing her bare skin beneath.

Laughter erupted now from the young guests, louder and less contained. A few cameras flashed. The older guests tried hard to look away clearly embarrassed on her behalf.

Amelia froze. She clutched at what was left of her dress, her face crumpling in humiliation. Her throat tightened — she wanted to run, to disappear, to cry.

But before she could move, Vincent appeared beside her. Without a word, he shrugged off his jacket and draped it gently over her shoulders. He glared out at the crowd, his expression thunderous. No one laughed again.

“Victor,” he barked.

The driver was already at his side, guiding Amelia away as she held the jacket close to her chest.

Viviana watched from behind the mic stand, eyes wide and lips parted in feigned shock. But for just a moment, a tiny curve tugged at the corner of her lips.

Satisfaction. One of her plans had worked finally.

After the event as they were leaving, Alma came beside Viviana and whispered to her ear, “I got the video of her dress ripping, what do you want me to do with it”

“I’m looking forward to a trending video of her tomorrow. You know what to do” Viviana smirked.