During the drive, I kept catching the faint scent of perfume on him.

It was gardenia, Palmer's favorite.

"When did you start wearing perfume?" I asked suddenly.

He paused for a moment, then answered, "I don't."

I said nothing more. If he was telling the truth, it was all the more ironic. It was as if they were so intimate their scents had mingled, a mark of their closeness.

We were silent for the rest of the drive until we arrived at the restaurant.

The moment Nico Russo spotted Cassian, his face split into a wide grin. "Cassian, you finally made it."

But when his gaze landed on me, the smile died on his lips. "What is she—"

He didn't finish, but I knew exactly what he wanted to say.

Inside the private room, all of Nico's friends turned to stare. Their smiles tightened, their eyes turning cold.

Nico's family was very close to Palmer's.

From the day Cassian brought me to meet them and announced we were together, Nico had never liked me.

He felt I wasn't good enough for Cassian—that a restorer, an outsider with no ties to their world, was a liability to the heir of the Valeriano family.

In the past, to avoid embarrassing Cassian, I always went out of my way to get along with him.

I always greeted him with a smile and deliberately tried to please him, but it never worked.

I used to wonder what I was doing wrong. Now, I understood it had nothing to do with me. They had long since decided that Palmer was the only one worthy of Cassian.

So I stopped playing the part.

I walked to the farthest corner, sat down, and opened my file folder.

"Ms. Sterling, over here," Nico called out.

He led me to an even more distant spot, then turned and arranged for Cassian to sit next to Palmer.

I knew he was doing it on purpose.

Palmer was wearing a champagne-colored gown. The moment Cassian sat down beside her, a brilliant smile bloomed on her face.

The two of them quickly began discussing the ownership of a certain piece of land. As they talked, they unconsciously leaned closer and closer, their voices dropping lower until their shoulders were almost touching.

Watching them talk so happily, I suddenly remembered when we first met. Back then, I used to discuss the history of artworks with him just like that.

In those days, he would listen patiently to every discovery I shared and would be happy for every one of my delicate restorations as if it were his own achievement.

Now, the light in his eyes belonged to someone else.

I stood up to leave, but Cassian suddenly called out from behind me, "Tiffany, we haven't finished dinner."

I scoffed. "You and Miss Gallo seem to be having a wonderful time, Mr. Valeriano. I wouldn't want to break up the party."

With that, I turned and left.