Chapter 977

Rosalind and Genevieve both paled, their expressions turning ashen as if they'd encountered a specter.

"Thank you all," Rosalind murmured into the microphone before gracefully descending the stage and returning to the VIP section.

The elite crowd buzzed with admiration. "Ms. Fairchild, that was breathtaking. Who knew you were hiding such talent?"

"This is what true elegance looks like—refined, not flashy."

"Could I get your autograph?"

They swarmed around her like moths to a flame.

Before long, Lucian's commanding presence cut through the throng as he waved them off. "Give her some space."

His gaze lingered on Rosalind's delicate features. "Tired?"

A faint smile curved her lips. "Not at all."

"No more dancing," he said firmly. "The doctor warned against exertion in your condition."

Rosalind knew that well. She wouldn't have performed tonight if not to put Genevieve and Isabella in their place. Seeing their bitter, venomous stares now sent a thrill of satisfaction through her.

She rose. "Enjoy yourselves. I'll be back shortly."

As she walked away, Lucian immediately stood.

"Mr. Graves, join us for a drink!"

He didn't even glance back. "Later."

The group exchanged knowing looks.

Reginald, who'd been quietly observing, swirled his whiskey with an amused smirk. "Need it spelled out? He's following Ms. Fairchild."

Laughter rippled through them. "Since when did Mr. Graves become so attached?"

"Can you blame him? She's carrying his heir. Of course he's protective."

Genevieve and Isabella overheard, their faces darkening further.

Genevieve sneered at Isabella. "I thought you were supposed to be some dancing prodigy. Pathetic, losing to an amateur."

Isabella's temper flared. "Says the woman who couldn't keep her man interested long enough to get a ring. At least I didn't get replaced by a pregnant rival."

Genevieve's eyes blazed. "What did you just say?"

"That you're a failure!"

"You little—"

Crack!

Genevieve's palm connected sharply with Isabella's cheek.

Isabella staggered back, hand flying to her face. "You dare—"

Genevieve was already rolling up her sleeves. "I've wanted to do this since the moment I saw you!"

Isabella mirrored her stance. "You'll regret that!"

They lunged at each other, nails raking, hair pulling, a whirlwind of designer dresses and flying limbs.

Reginald jumped between them. "Enough! Break it up!"

Smack!

A stray slap caught him square across the face. He stood frozen, staring at the chaotic mess before him.

Meanwhile, Rosalind exited the restroom, smoothing her dress as she walked down the corridor.

"Rosalind!"

A drunken socialite blocked her path, leering.

"That performance... exquisite. Name your price for a private show."