Elara’s heart jumped into her throat as she bent down instinctively. But it was already too late. The side of her dress had given way and slipped lower than it should.

Though she was wearing something underneath, it didn’t change anything. It did nothing to properly cover her.

She dropped to the stage floor, trying to pull the fabric back into place, but her hands were shaking and the cloth was too smooth. It kept slipping from her grip, making her efforts useless.

Relanie quickly moved closer and held her shoulders, her face full of concern as she tried to help fix the dress. Well this is what it looked like to anyone watching. But at close range, Elara heard her words clearly.

"You thought you were so clever with those childish schemes, didn’t you, Elara?" She hissed mockingly. "You shouldn’t have played games with me."

She leaned even closer and lowered her voice. "Looks like those walls of yours have finally cracked... no, not just cracked. They’ve fallen to the ground."

As she spoke, her fingers moved again, pretending to fix the fabric.

But Elara saw it clearly. She was actually trying to pull it down further. So before Relanie could finish, her instincts moved first. She reached out and pushed her sharply.

Relanie lost her balance on her heels and fell back hard onto the stage.

The room broke into chaos instantly. Voices rose and the journalists rushed forward, flashing their cameras non stop. The director also stood up, her face red with anger. "Stop! No pictures! Put the cameras away!" she shouted, waving at security but no one listened.

Of course, they wouldn’t. To any journalist, a photo of a rising star like Elara looking exposed or top star Relanie hitting the floor was worth a lot of money. One exclusive shot of this kind of scandal was far more valuable than following any professional rules. They knew that even if they got banned from the studio the next day, the money from those photos would make it worth the risk.

On the stage, some people had rushed to Relanie’s rescue, others tried to approach Elara, but she stepped back, avoiding them. She didn’t trust any of them. She just wanted to leave.

As she tried to stand, Ziva reached her first, followed closely by Carris.

Carris had already taken off his coat while walking. When he got to her, he draped it over her shoulders quickly. But the moment he did, he froze.

His eyes locked on the back of her shoulder. He leaned closer, his voice trembling as his fingers hovered near her skin. "How did you get this?"

But Elara was in too much shock to ask what he was talking about. The lights, the noise, the cameras, and the sudden physical touch was too much. She shook her head, pulling away from both him and Ziva, then turned and walked off the stage without looking back.

She moved quickly through the backstage, turning corners without stopping. Her steps were fast and uneven, making it impossible for Ziva to follow her path.

Then she saw a door. She pushed it open and stepped inside without any hesitation.

It was a restroom.

She walked straight to the sink and stopped in front of the mirror. Her palms pressed against the edge as her breathing grew louder, her hands trembling uncontrollably.

She tried to calm herself. Tried to tell herself it was nothing. That it wasn’t worth breaking over. But it didn’t work.

Images flashed in her mind one after another. Things she couldn’t forget no matter how many times she lived.

She slowly raised her head and looked into the mirror. Her pale face stared back at her, though for a moment, it didn’t feel like just her. Her chest rose and fell as she reached forward and turned on the faucet. Water rushed out.

She stared at it, watching as it filled the sink and began to spill over the edge. It poured onto the floor, soaking into her feet and the hem of her dress.

But then... It suddenly stopped.

Elara’s gaze dropped to the hand resting gently on the faucet. Slowly... she lifted her eyes and looked at the mirror.

Adrian was standing right behind her.

He didn’t look panicked or worried. His expression was calm, almost as if nothing had happened. Without a word, he reached out and gripped the edges of the coat on her shoulders. Then he pulled it off with a smooth, careless motion and tossed it onto the wet counter.

Before the cold could touch her skin, he draped his own jacket over her. It was heavier, warmer... and it settled around her completely.

He didn’t step away. He remained there, his gaze meeting hers in the mirror. "The back exit is clear." He said calmly. "My car is waiting. If you stay here, the journalists will find you in five minutes,"

Then he turned to leave.

Elara didn’t respond. She stood there, her slightly damp hair clinging to her neck, her thoughts in complete disorder. One part of her told her to go, to step into the safety of his car waiting outside. But another part of her was terrified to follow him. To leave with Adrian is to let him see her at her weakest...It was a different kind of exposure from the cameras outside.

She stared at his retreating figure for a long moment. Then... She made up her mind. She reached out and grabbed Carris’s damp coat from the counter, holding it tightly against her chest.

Adrian stopped at the door. Slowly, he turned his head. His gaze dropped and settled on her hands. He watched for a few seconds, his eyes narrowing a little as his lips pressed into a thin line. Then he lifted his eyes back to hers.

Not saying a word, he turned again and stepped out into the hallway, his pace quicker than before.

Elara drew in a cold breath and finally moved. She stepped away from the sink and shut off the running water, then followed him out, her footsteps wet against the floor.

As they walked down the dim corridor, the noise from the party faded little by little. Adrian walked ahead, his back straight, his stride even and unhurried. He didn’t turn to check if she was still behind him.

Perhaps he simply knew she had no other choice but to follow...