"Noelle..." She gripped my hand tightly, tears flowing again. "Only you truly understand me..."
"Stop crying." I handed her a handkerchief. "You're tonight's star—you can't let others see you cry."
She took the handkerchief and wiped her tears forcefully, trying to calm her emotions. We shifted to discussing fashion, and the atmosphere gradually became more relaxed.
Just as we were getting into our conversation, a large hand settled on my waist. Kholod had appeared behind me at some point.
"What are you two chatting about so happily?" His gaze moved between Isabella and me.
"Nothing much, just casual conversation," I said.
"Kholod!" Isabella immediately straightened up, her smile carrying a hint of nervousness. "I still need to greet other guests, so I'll excuse myself."
She left almost like she was escaping.
Kholod stared at her retreating figure for a few seconds, then looked back at me.
"She was crying again?"
"How did you know?"
"Her eyes are swollen." He said flatly. "What about?"
"She..." I hesitated. "She apologized to me about last time. Said the rumors outside are troubling her."
Kholod's brow furrowed slightly. "Those rumors—I'll have them handled. Come on, there are some people who want to meet you."
The next hour and a half was like a social marathon. Kholod led me through various circles, introducing me to every important figure. "This is my wife, Noelle."
Each time, his hand rested on my waist or he stood within half a step of me, using body language to announce to everyone—this woman belongs to him.
Unlike last time, compliments flowed like a tide. I smiled and responded appropriately, making polite but meaningless social conversation.
Kholod remained by my side throughout, never straying more than three feet away.
The gossip-loving Mrs. Anderson approached with champagne. "Mr. Morozov! Mrs. Morozov! You two are such a perfect match tonight!"
"Mrs. Anderson, good evening." I nodded politely.
"I was just chatting with some ladies, and everyone was praising you!" She looked at me, eyes sparkling with curiosity. "They said you're not only exceptionally beautiful but also very cultured and refined. By the way..."
She lowered her voice, pretending to be mysterious. "I saw Miss Vance talking with you earlier? Your relationship with her... with all the rumors flying around outside, I wonder what the truth is..."
I was hesitating on how to respond when Kholod's cold voice cut in.
"Miss Vance is dedicated to charity, and the Morozov family appreciates this spirit and provides support." His sharp gaze swept toward Mrs. Anderson. "As for our relationship, I consider her a little sister."
Mrs. Anderson was clearly surprised, too. "Oh! So that's how it is! I guess I was overthinking..."
"My wife is only Noelle." He tightened his arm, pulling me closer. "I hope everyone understands this clearly."
His voice wasn't loud, but every word was firm and authoritative.
Mrs. Anderson's face paled somewhat. "Of... of course, I understand completely. Mr. Morozov, I absolutely didn't mean anything else..."
"I hope so," Kholod said indifferently, then led me away.
By ten o'clock, the reception was winding down. When we said goodbye to Isabella, her smile was especially radiant.
