While the entire venue was completely absorbed in Foca's heartfelt performance, one particular person was having a significantly worse evening.
Everyone else, however?
They were thriving.
Some attendees were singing along.
Others had their eyes closed, swaying to the music.
A few were treating the whole thing like the final scene of a music video.
The vibes were immaculate.
Then the bridge arrived.
And that was the exact moment Odette lost the battle against self-restraint.
Without warning, she stood up.
Marched toward the stage.
And stretched out an expectant hand.
Immediately, a microphone appeared in it.
As if the staff had anticipated this exact outcome.
Which, to be fair, they probably had.
🎶Oh, and the award for the best liar goes to you!🎶
The crowd erupted.
Now, under normal circumstances, Odette would never claim to be a singer.
In fact, completely sober?
A note would have a higher chance of finding her than she would of finding a note.
But tonight?
Tonight featured champagne.
And Odette possessed a truly remarkable talent.
The more champagne she consumed, the better her singing became.
Nobody understood the science behind it.
Many had tried.
All had failed.
Yet the evidence remained undeniable.
Champagne Odette could sing.
Sober Odette absolutely could not.
So there she was.
Belting out the bridge alongside Foca with enough passion to rival the original recording.
And honestly?
She sounded pretty good.
Foca couldn't help smiling.
Because somehow this had become exactly the kind of chaos he'd expected.
Then Odette did something that should have surprised nobody.
And yet somehow surprised everybody.
🎶Oh, and the award for the best liar goes to you!🎶
She sang the line.
Then dramatically looked around.
As though searching for the winner.
"Hmmm..."
The audience immediately sensed danger.
Then she pointed.
Directly at Hailey.
The crowd collectively lost their minds.
Now, to understand this moment properly, one must understand something about Odette.
The moment she learned what had happened to Foca...
She became a founding member of the Foca Protection Squad.
President.
Chairwoman.
Chief Executive Officer.
Head of Security.
All positions simultaneously.
To say she disliked Hailey would be an understatement.
A severe understatement.
The kind of understatement historians write books about.
And after several glasses of champagne?
Odette's already limited filter had quietly resigned and gone home.
Besides, it was her anniversary.
Her night.
Her family.
And if she wanted to be a tiny bit petty in defense of her beloved brother-in-law?
Well.
Who exactly was going to stop her?
Certainly not Jonathan.
The man was enjoying the show.
🎶(Goes to you!)🎶
And then things somehow became even worse.
Or better.
Depending on your perspective.
Monarch pointed.
Aqua pointed.
Bobby pointed.
None of them actually knew the full history. Well, maybe except for Bobby. But Bobby may have known the history, but not the face. So technically, he was still in the dark.
They simply saw Odette doing it and collectively arrived at the conclusion:
"This appears to be choreography."
Professional backing vocalists that they were, they committed fully.
The audience absolutely exploded.
Meanwhile, Foca looked one second away from laughing into the microphone.
And somewhere in the venue, Hailey seriously considered whether disappearing into another dimension was still an available option.
Honestly?
Reasonable reaction.
Because getting accidentally dogpiled by an entire group of performers was probably not how she'd imagined her evening going.
And the funniest part?
Half of them didn't even realize they were doing it.
Which somehow made it even more devastating.
****
As the chorus returned once more, Foca looked out across the crowd and grinned.
"To those who know the words..."
He lifted the microphone toward the audience.
"Sing with us!"
The response was immediate.
And loud.
🎶But you put on quite a show
Really had me going
Now it's time to go
Curtain's finally closing...🎶
The crowd sang their hearts out.
Business tycoons.
Industry leaders.
Old money.
New money.
Ambitious entrepreneurs.
People who normally spent their days discussing acquisitions, investments, and quarterly projections.
All passionately singing Rihanna at the top of their lungs.
It was truly a sight to behold.
Somewhere, several public relations managers were quietly praying no videos would leak.
Backstage, meanwhile...
An entirely different drama was unfolding.
Dew stood beside Hyouka.
Or more accurately...
He was staring at Hyouka.
The woman was singing along with enough emotion to suggest she'd personally gone through three divorces, two betrayals, and a tragic forbidden romance.
Every lyric was delivered with theatrical conviction.
Every gesture looked like it belonged in a music video.
Dew couldn't decide whether he was entertained or concerned.
On one hand, it was objectively hilarious.
On the other hand...
Whoever had apparently broken Hyouka's heart in this imaginary scenario was rapidly climbing Dew's nonexistent hit list.
Which was ridiculous.
Because nobody had actually broken Hyouka's heart.
As far as he knew.
Yet somehow his brain had already constructed an entire revenge arc.
A deeply troubling realization.
Especially because this was exactly the kind of thing Hyouka spent every possible moment teasing him about.
Meanwhile, Hyouka remained completely unaware.
Or perhaps completely aware.
With her, it was impossible to tell.
The woman was bright.
Unhinged.
Completely cuckoo-bananas.
And annoyingly beautiful.
A combination that should've been illegal.
Then, while passionately singing along to the chorus, Hyouka suddenly reached into her absurdly oversized tote bag.
Dew frowned.
Then froze.
Because she pulled out what appeared to be a handgun.
His eyes widened.
"Where did you get that?"
"Shhh."
Hyouka didn't even look at him.
"A girl is vibing."
Dew stared.
"Hyouka."
"Hush."
She continued singing dramatically.
Then casually lowered the object enough for him to inspect it.
It was a training pistol.
A very realistic training pistol.
The kind security personnel used for drills.
Dew immediately recognized it.
Which somehow did not make him feel better.
"It's for a certain bitch," Hyouka whispered.
The smile that followed belonged in a psychological evaluation.
"Chamber lent it to me."
Dew blinked.
Once.
Twice.
Then slowly turned toward the venue.
Of course Chamber had lent it to her.
Why was he even surprised anymore?
Foca's bodyguard possessed the decision-making skills of a raccoon when it came to enabling chaos.
Meanwhile, inside Hyouka's mind, the situation was perfectly simple.
Nobody hurt Sir Foca.
Nobody.
Anyone who did deserved immediate and dramatic consequences.
Preferably accompanied by ominous background music.
Dew pinched the bridge of his nose.
Somewhere along the way, he'd stopped questioning these people.
Which was probably a sign of personal growth.
Or psychological damage.
Possibly both.
Fortunately, despite Hyouka's murderous karaoke energy, nobody was actually going to die tonight.
At least not literally.
Unfortunately for Hailey Gonzalez...
The consequences waiting for her were shaping up to be far worse than a quick death.
Because consequences had finally arrived.
And unlike revenge...
Consequences never needed an invitation.
****
🎶Curtain's finally closing
That was quite a show
Very entertaining...
Yeah-yeahh!🎶
At this point, Odette had fully embraced the spirit of the performance.
And by "embraced the spirit," I mean the champagne had successfully convinced her that she was a featured artist.
The woman was throwing in ad-libs.
Actual ad-libs.
The confidence was astronomical.
The accuracy was... negotiable.
But confidence counts for something.
Jonathan, meanwhile, was having the time of his life.
He had long since pulled out his phone and was recording everything.
Every lyric.
Every ad-lib.
Every second of his wife living her best life on stage.
The video would absolutely be saved.
Backed up.
Archived.
Protected.
Possibly framed.
Because watching Odette reveal yet another side of herself genuinely made him happy.
After all these years together, Jonathan had assumed he knew every corner of his wife's personality.
Apparently not.
And strangely enough, that realization excited him.
Because learning something new about Odette never felt like discovering a stranger.
It felt like finding another room inside a house he already loved.
Then the song approached its final climax.
Odette turned toward Foca and dramatically pointed at him.
"Sing it, Foca!"
The crowd cheered.
And Foca sang.
🎶But it's over now...🎶
Immediately, Monarch, Aqua, and Bobby slipped into harmony behind him.
🎶(But it's over now...)🎶
Their voices blended beautifully.
Soft.
Steady.
Supportive.
Then Foca looked into the crowd once more.
And for a brief moment, his eyes found Hailey's again.
Not with anger.
Not with bitterness.
Simply with certainty.
🎶Go on and take a bow🎶
The final line hung in the air.
Raw.
Honest.
Final.
The entire ballroom seemed to hold its breath.
Because everyone could feel it.
This wasn't just a performance anymore.
It was a farewell.
A goodbye to old wounds.
A goodbye to old regrets.
A goodbye to a version of himself that had spent far too long carrying pain.
And when the final note faded...
It was truly over.
The past had finally been left behind.
The crowd erupted.
Thunderous applause crashed through the ballroom once more.
Cheers.
Whistles.
Shouts.
The entire venue rose to its feet.
Odette immediately grabbed the microphone.
"Give it up for my ultra-talented brother and his artists!"
The cheers somehow became even louder.
Foca laughed.
Monarch laughed.
Aqua and Bobby laughed.
Then all four bowed together.
Warm smiles stretched across their faces.
"Thank you so much, everyone," Foca said sincerely.
"You are all too kind."
The humility was effortless.
Natural.
Purely Foca.
Once the applause settled, he raised the microphone again.
"Don't go anywhere."
A grin appeared on his face.
"We still have plenty more performances lined up for you tonight."
The crowd cheered.
"But first, we'll be taking a brief ten-minute intermission."
A collective groan followed.
Which only made him laugh.
Moments later, Foca, Monarch, Aqua, and Bobby disappeared backstage.
Odette returned triumphantly to her husband.
Jonathan immediately began replaying the video he'd recorded.
As expected.
Meanwhile...
Elsewhere in the ballroom...
A very different emotion was brewing.
The moment the intermission began, Hailey slipped out of the venue.
Her heels clicked sharply against the polished floor as she stormed through the halls.
The applause still echoed faintly behind her.
Every cheer felt like salt in a wound.
Every laugh felt personal.
Every smile felt directed at her.
Rage simmered beneath her skin.
Because in Hailey's mind, she had been humiliated.
Publicly.
Thoroughly.
And she wasn't about to let it go.
She only had one objective now.
Find Foca.
The logic behind this decision was questionable at best.
Because most people, after realizing they had just become the emotional target of a breakup anthem in front of hundreds of influential guests, would choose to disappear.
Not Hailey.
Unfortunately, self-awareness had never been her strongest quality.
Confidence, however?
That she possessed in abundance.
The dangerous kind.
The kind born from never having been told "no" often enough.
Her family had money.
A lot of money.
Not De Clairmontin money.
Not even close.
But enough to make consequences feel optional for most of her life.
And so she marched forward with all the determination of someone who firmly believed she was still the main character of a story that had long since moved on without her.
Delusion truly was one of humanity's most renewable resources.
And Hailey Gonzalez happened to be exceptionally well supplied.
Which was unfortunate.
Because while she was busy chasing the past...
The future was already preparing to meet her.
And unlike Foca...
The future had no intention of being kind.