My Fiancé's Downfall Claimed By The Mistress's Brother

"Keep your chin up," Julian instructed.

"I am trying," I said.

I tightened my grip on his tailored sleeve. The sweeping hem of my crimson gown brushed the top step of the grand spiral staircase.

"I thought we agreed on the emerald dress," I whispered.

"Red demands attention," he said. "Emerald asks for it."

"And we are here to demand," I finished for him.

"We are here to collect a debt."

We descended the curved marble stairs. The crystal chandeliers cast a blinding glow over the ballroom. Hundreds of guests in tuxedos and designer gowns milled around the towering champagne pyramids. Waiters balanced silver trays of caviar, weaving through the elite circles of the city.

The chatter died down as we reached the halfway point. Heads turned.

"Is that Julian Vance?" a woman draped in diamonds whispered to her companion.

"Who is he escorting?" an older man asked, adjusting his wire-rimmed glasses. "He never brings a date to the annual gala."

"Look at that diamond necklace," another voice echoed. "She must be an heiress from overseas."

"Or a movie star," a younger woman chimed in.

I kept my eyes fixed on the marble floor ahead. My pulse hammered against my ribs. I had spent three years scrubbing diner tables, and now I wore jewelry worth more than the restaurant itself.

"Breathe, Chloe," Julian murmured near my ear. "You own this room."

"I barely own the phone in my purse," I muttered back.

A faint smirk touched his lips. "Tonight, you own the room. Act like it."

"Right," I said. "Acting."

I straightened my spine. I let go of his sleeve and slid my hand down to lightly clasp his wrist, projecting a confidence I did not feel.

We reached the bottom step. The crowd parted for us like the Red Sea.

Across the ballroom, standing by a towering ice sculpture, was Derek.

He wore a midnight-blue tuxedo. He held a crystal champagne flute, gesturing animatedly to a circle of older men.

"The user acquisition metrics are flawless," Derek boasted, his voice carrying over the string quartet. "And with Mia's family anchoring the seed round, my startup is guaranteed to dominate the market."

"We are very interested in the Vance Group's endorsement," a gray-haired investor noted. "Julian's approval carries significant weight in our circles."

"It is a done deal," Derek assured him. "Mia and I are practically family now. The paperwork is just a formality."

He took a sip of his drink and turned around.

His eyes locked onto mine.

The color drained from his face at once. His jaw went slack.

The champagne flute slipped from his fingers. It hit the thick Persian rug with a dull thud, the crystal shattering and splashing pale liquid across his polished leather shoes.

"Derek?" the gray-haired investor asked, frowning at the mess.

Derek did not answer. He stared at me like he had just seen a ghost.

Before he could speak, a shrill voice pierced the elegant hum of the room.

"Security!"

Mia pushed through the crowd, her silver sequined dress catching the light. She pointed a manicured finger directly at my face.

"Guards! Get over here right now!" she shrieked.

Two men in black suits hurried over, looking confused.

"Why is this trash in the ballroom?" Mia demanded. She glared at the guards. "I want her thrown out immediately! She is stalking my fiancé!"

"Ma'am, we need to ask you to lower your voice," one of the guards said.

"Do not tell me what to do!" Mia snapped. "Do you know who I am? Remove this woman before I have you both fired!"

"Nobody is getting fired today," Julian said.

Julian stepped smoothly in front of me, shielding me from Mia's outstretched finger.

Mia blinked, finally noticing who I was holding onto. "Julian? What are you doing with her?"

Julian did not look at his sister. He focused on the circle of wealthy investors standing around Derek.

"Gentlemen," Julian said, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade. "Allow me to introduce Chloe. She is my exclusive guest for the evening."

The investors murmured greetings, eyeing me with newfound respect.

Derek stumbled forward, leaving wet footprints on the rug. "Mr. Vance, there is a misunderstanding here. That woman is—"

"That woman," Julian interrupted, his tone low, "is the reason your company will never see one cent from my accounts."

Derek froze. His mouth opened, but no sound came out.

"Julian, stop it!" Mia yelled. She grabbed her brother's arm. "Derek is a visionary! You promised to review his incubator file!"

Julian shook her hand off. "I reviewed it. Then I canceled the funding."

"You have no right to do that!" Mia cried. "I will fund him myself! I will use my trust!"

"Your trust is frozen," Julian stated. "As are your credit lines. You currently have zero assets to your name."

Mia stumbled back as if he had struck her. She looked at Derek, expecting him to defend her.

Derek ignored her completely. He looked wildly between the two siblings. The reality of the situation crashed over him. The Vance family backing was gone. The money was gone.

"Wait," Derek pleaded, stepping toward Julian. "Mr. Vance, please. We can negotiate. I have other term sheets."

"You have nothing," I said, stepping out from behind Julian.

Derek glared at me, his fists clenching at his sides. "You did this. You poisoned him against me."

"I just showed him the truth," I replied. "You financed your fake millionaire lifestyle with my waitress tips. Now you have to pay the bill."

The investors exchanged disgusted looks.

"A waitress?" the gray-haired man asked, stepping away from Derek. "You told us you were self-funded from a previous successful exit."

"I am!" Derek lied, sweat beading on his forehead. "She is crazy! She is a jealous ex trying to ruin my reputation!"

"I am the woman you promised to marry," I corrected him. "And you drove my car here tonight."

"You lying bitch," Derek hissed, taking a step toward me.

"Careful," Julian warned.

Julian shifted his weight, blocking Derek's path entirely. "Watch your tone. Or my security team will escort you out through the service elevator."

Derek stopped dead in his tracks.

A sharp chime echoed through the ballroom speakers, cutting off Derek's frantic excuses.

"Ladies and gentlemen," the host announced from the main stage. "Please direct your attention to the front. We have a special presentation regarding the Vance Group's upcoming ventures."

"Finally," Derek muttered.

The velvet curtains parted. A projector screen lowered slowly from the ceiling.

A frozen frame appeared in the lower corner: Derek's bare shoulder, Mia's silver dress, and the timestamp from the parking garage.

Derek recognized it before anyone else did.

"No," he whispered.

The ballroom speakers came alive.