NOVEL NEXT Chapter 678: Gilded cage.
Arwen stepped out of the car with elegance, a soft and kind smile gracing her lips. She hadn't dressed to charm, yet everything about her was enough to leave people spellbound—especially her poised demeanour. It was a kind of presence that could make anyone instantly like her without even knowing her name.
Mia walked a respectful step behind her. This was her first time stepping into so many camera flashes, and the blinding light made her feel slightly dizzy. Her hands tightened around the clutch she carried, trying to hide her unease.
"It's okay," she heard Arwen murmur beside her. And when she turned to look, Arwen gave her a reassuring smile. "You will slowly get used to it. This is just the first time, and first times don't have to be perfect."
Mia's heart warmed at her gentle assurance, and she gave a polite nod. She followed her, and somehow, with Arwen's calm presence, her nerves began to settle.
As they approached the banquet entrance, Arwen stopped briefly near the press line. It wasn't required, but she knew everyone had been waiting for her.
"Hello, Rebecca. Good to see you again," she greeted one of the journalists she recognized.
Rebecca's eyes lit up, her lips curving into a smile. "Ah, definitely. I was hoping you would make an appearance tonight. Honestly, I wasn't sure you would."
Arwen didn't flinch at the underlying meaning in her words. Instead, she smiled and gave a small, graceful shrug. "Why wouldn't I come tonight? I did receive an invitation. And at Davies, we believe in respecting both people and their gestures. No matter whatever be their intent behind it."
Her statement was polite, but it carried weight —making it clear she was here as the representative of Davies International, and no one should read too much into her presence otherwise.
"Ms. Qui—" one of the reporters began, but Arwen turned her head slightly and interrupted, her tone warm yet firm.
"I wouldn't mind if you call me Mrs. Winslow now."
The reporter blinked, caught off guard, but Arwen didn't give him the chance to twist her words. Her lips curved into a light smile as she added, "It's been quite some time since I announced my marriage. My husband would be rather sullen if he heard people still refusing to acknowledge his presence in my life. Especially when he isn't around to remind them himself."
A ripple of chuckles spread among the crowd.
From a distance. Emily's jaw clenched, the sound of that laughter grating on her ears. She hated how effortlessly Arwen could turn a formal introduction into a charming moment that drew everyone in.
"It's fine," Karen's voice interrupted her thoughts. She was watching Emily with an understanding gaze, noting her expression too well. "Over time, you will learn it too. For now, there's no need for you to compare yourself to her. You don't stand in the same league."
Her words were meant to reassure her, but instead, they only cut deeper.
Same league? Of course, they weren't in the same league. Arwen had been born and raised in his world; the ease, the charm, the unshakable grace —it was all second nature to her. Emily, on the other hand, despite being fairly rich, had never enjoyed such privileges.
But that was about to change. Now, she would have what Arwen once had. Now, she would stand where Arwen once stood.
"Let's go," Karen murmured, urging her inside. "We still need to get you introduced to everyone."
Emily was no longer in the same mood, but this evening was hers, and she was not willing to give it up to anyone. Nodding, she agreed before finally walking into the hall.
Meanwhile, outside, people didn't let Arwen walk away so easily.
"Mrs. Winslow, we wouldn't ask what happened between you and your family —we respect your privacy. But could you tell us how you are feeling today? The title that had belonged to you for so many years will belong to someone else tonight. Are you really not hesitant to give it up?"
The journalist's tone was polite, but his question carried a hidden edge. The press had been briefed on which topics were off limits, yet here he was, attempting to fish for a headline that would stir public interest.
He thought no one would notice.
But Arwen saw through him instantly. She paused, her gaze steady. "Really? Do you respect privacy? For what you are asked sounds almost the same as prying."
"I … I —" The reporter faltered, caught off guard. He had expected her to sidestep gracefully, as she always had, not to confront him so openly. Arwen had always been known for her impeccable etiquette, for avoiding anything that could spark negative press.
Yet tonight, something about her was different. She was still every inch the poised socialite, but there was quite boldness in her words —as though the bounds of etiquette no longer commanded her, but served her instead.
It was unexpected. It was refreshing.
"It's fine, you don't need to explain," Arwen said, lifting her hand in a calm, almost forgiving gesture. I didn't mean to embarrass you. I was just … curious." She allowed a beat to pass before smoothly circling back. "But to answer your question —No, there is no hesitation. Because if there had been, I wouldn't have given it up so decisively. Titles aren't what I value. I do respect the responsibility that comes with them, but not all responsibilities are meant to be kept —especially when they become a gilded cage."
"Gilded cage?" someone echoed. "Isn't that a rather cruel way to put it?"
However, Arwen smiled and shook her head. "Cruel? Not at all. It's just a perception. And perceptions vary —from me to you. They don't need to be the same. I saw it as a gilded cage, but for some —it's a wish —about to be fulfilled. And aren't you all here to celebrate that?"
Her words made sense, leaving no room for refutation.
Just when someone was about to pose another question, Arwen seized the moment to excuse herself. "Well, this has been a lovely conversation, but I should head inside before the evening slips away. If I linger any longer, I might miss the appetizers altogether —and that would be a tragedy."