I Married My Ex's Billionaire Father
Chapter 230: Her Rapidly Beating Heart

Chapter 230: Her Rapidly Beating Heart

Ophelia’s smile, which had been so carefully crafted, began to waver. The initial thrill of getting an award and being recognized for her philanthropic work, the promise of boasting to the ladies at her bridge club, was rapidly fading, replaced by a growing sense of unease. She scanned the room, her gaze lingering on the decorations, the party favors, the general atmosphere. Something was... off.

The banners, the balloons, the sheer exuberance of the crowd – it did not align with the image of a sophisticated charity event. It felt more like... a birthday party. A lavish, extravagant birthday party, but a birthday party nonetheless.

A cold dread began to creep into her heart. She had been so convinced that she was attending a prestigious gala, a celebration of her achievements. But now, she was starting to suspect that she had been mistaken. Terribly mistaken.

She watched the other guests, their faces flushed with laughter, their conversations light and frivolous. Most of them did not seem like the philanthropists and art enthusiasts she had expected. They seemed more like... partygoers. People who were here to celebrate a birthday, not to support a charitable cause.

As if on cue, a couple of waiters came wheeling in a large, elaborately decorated cake, its tiers adorned with candles and sugary decorations. A banner above it proclaimed, "Happy Birthday, Brooke!"

Brooke. The name resonated with a chilling vagueness that hung in the back of her head refusing to give her clarity.

Until her eyes narrowed, Brooke Chadwick. Wasn’t that the name of the girl who was being paraded as Maeve’s daughter?

Ophelia’s breath hitched. She felt a wave of humiliation wash over her. She had been duped. She had been tricked into attending a birthday party, thinking it was a prestigious charity event. She had been made a fool of.

Her cheeks flushed with anger. She could not believe she had been so naive, so gullible. She had been so eager to believe in the invitation, so desperate for recognition, that she had ignored the warning signs.

She remembered the invitation, the elegant script, the promise of an honor. It had all been a lie. A carefully crafted illusion designed to lure her into this... this trap.

She wondered why she had been invited in the first place. Was it a mistake? A cruel prank? Or was there a more sinister motive behind it? Who could be the person behind it? A feeling of unease crept along her spine when she remembered that Ken was also here, did that fact have anything to do with her being invited to the party under false pretenses?

Her mind raced, trying to piece together the puzzle. Could Ken be behind it all? Did he know about Maeve’s child? But that did not make sense, one look at Brooke and he would know that she was not his child. Her head ached as all the thoughts came flooding in.

She craned her head in order to have a proper look at Ken’s companion and saw to her dismay that she had gotten up from his side.

A wave of anger washed over Ophelia. She had come all the way to this party, dressed to the nines, ready to receive an award, and it was all for nothing. Edward, was going to have a laugh when he discovered what had happened. He would laugh and say that she was too gullible. She could already hear him taunting her.

She had to leave. She could not stay here any longer, not in this atmosphere of deception and mockery.

She caught the attention of a passing waiter, her voice sharp and commanding. "Excuse me," she said, her eyes narrowed. "What kind of party is this?"

The waiter, a young man with a bewildered expression, looked at her as if she had lost her mind. "It’s a birthday party, ma’am," he said, his voice laced with confusion. "For Ms. Brooke Chadwick."

Ophelia’s lips curled into a disdainful sneer. "A birthday party," she echoed, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "And I was invited to this... this celebration?"

The waiter shrugged, his expression apologetic. "I don’t know, ma’am," he said. "I just work here."

He stared at the elegantly dressed woman before him and wondered if she was drunk, because she was certainly acting like she did not know where she was. For a second, he pondered on wealthy people and their eccentricities.

Ophelia dismissed him with a wave of her hand, her anger simmering. She could not believe that she had been so easily deceived. She had allowed her vanity to blind her, to lead her into this humiliating situation. She said a quick thanks to whatever supreme beings we’re looking out for her, she could not imagine how humiliating it would have been for her if Edward had insisted on following her.

She glanced at Ken, who was now engaged in conversation with a man sitting beside him. She briefly considered waiting, hoping to speak to him privately, to understand the situation. But she quickly dismissed the idea. She could not bear the thought of staying here any longer.

She decided that she would find his hotel and speak to him later. She would find out why she had been invited to this charade.

She stood up, her movements graceful and deliberate, her expression composed. She would not give them the satisfaction of seeing her upset. She would not let them see her humiliation or confusion.

She smoothed her dress, adjusting the delicate fabric, her eyes fixed on the exit. She took a deep breath, her heart pounding in her chest, and began to walk towards the door.

However, before she got too far the lights suddenly went off, leaving the room almost in pitch darkness, save for the candles on each table. Then a light came at a corner of the ballroom and Ophelia raised a trembling hand to her rapidly beating heart.

She had the sense that something was about to happen, something that would not be good for her.

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