The soft golden glow of the ballroom lights shimmered off the chandeliers, casting a honeyed warmth over the party. A slow song had replaced the more energetic pop music, giving the guests a moment to breathe, to sway, to talk. Adrien and Marinette stood near the edge of the dance floor, half-lost in the dazzling scene around them.

Marinette leaned against the marble column, cradling her cup of sparkling cider, cheeks pink from laughter and dancing. Her eyes sparkled almost as brightly as the golden ribbon in her hair.

"I submitted my internship application this morning," she said, trying to sound casual, but the edge of nervous excitement in her voice gave her away.

Adrien turned to her, eyebrows lifting. "You did?"

She nodded quickly, pressing the cup to her lips to hide her smile. "I've been working on it nonstop all week. My mom helped me narrow down my best designs and... I just thought, you know, if I want it, I should go for it."

Adrien blinked. "That's incredible, Marinette. I'm so proud of you."

A blush climbed up her neck. "Thanks. I'm not sure I'll get it, though. There are so many talented applicants—"

"You will," Adrien said firmly, stepping a little closer. His voice was soft, but steady. "You're one of the most talented people I've ever met. My father would be lucky to have someone like you at his company."

He said it before he could stop himself, and instantly regretted it.

Marinette tilted her head at him, smile faltering. "Do you really think so?"

Adrien forced himself to nod, even as a pit opened in his stomach.

Because truthfully, he didn't know.

After the confrontation that morning—the raised voice, the burning slap, the cold command to stay away from Marinette—it was painfully clear that Gabriel Agreste had no intention of giving her a chance. Adrien had disobeyed, and now Marinette would pay for it without even knowing why.

Adrien hated that.

He hated that his father had that kind of power. Hated that he couldn't fix it. That his loyalty as Chat Noir meant nothing to the man who saw love and freedom as distractions. He clenched his jaw, willing the frustration away.

Marinette misread the sudden tightness in his expression. "I mean, it's okay if I don't get it," she said quickly. "I just—I'm proud I tried. That's what matters, right?"

Adrien shook himself from his thoughts and smiled at her again, softer this time. "Right. But still... I think you're going to blow them away."

She ducked her head, biting back a grin. "Thanks, Adrien. That means a lot."

A short silence fell between them, comfortable this time. Around them, the party continued—Nino and Alya goofed around with a disposable camera by the dessert table, Max and Kim debated something with wild gestures, and Chloe posed dramatically in front of her massive cake for a selfie.

Adrien glanced at Marinette from the corner of his eye.

She was radiant. Not just because of the dress—though the deep sapphire color suited her perfectly—but because she was happy. Confident. Free.

He wanted to keep this moment.

As she turned to walk toward the dessert table, Adrien stayed behind for a moment.

His father's words echoed in his mind, colder than the evening air outside:

"Stay away from her. If you care about her at all, you'll listen."

Adrien watched Marinette's silhouette bathed in gold light as she laughed with Alya, completely unaware of the shadow hanging over them.

He clenched his fists.

Maybe his father thought this was over.

But Adrien wasn't giving up that easily.

Not on her.

Marinette had just finished laughing at something Nino said when Adrien noticed Lila approaching. Her heels clicked against the polished marble, her sleek red gown hugging her figure, a practiced look of innocence pasted on her face.

"Oh, Marinette!" she called sweetly, loud enough for nearby guests to hear. "You look... so brave for wearing that kind of dress to such a classy event."

Marinette blinked. "Excuse me?"

Adrien immediately stepped closer, his eyes narrowing. "Lila, don't—"

But Lila was already in full performance mode. "No, no, I mean it!" she gushed. "It's just so... you. A bit homemade, maybe, but that's your brand, right? So inspiring."

Marinette's shoulders tensed. Adrien saw it — the faint tremble in her hand, the hurt flashing behind her eyes. But she didn't bite. She straightened her back and smiled.

"I appreciate your concern, Lila. But I'm really proud of this dress."

Lila tilted her head, feigning confusion. "You mean someone actually let you through the door in that?"

Before Adrien could even open his mouth, another voice cut through the room like a whip.

"Are you seriously still like this, Rossi?"

Heads turned. Chloé Bourgeois stepped forward, arms crossed, hair practically glowing under the chandeliers. Her heels clacked sharply against the floor as she came to stand between Marinette and Lila, her golden dress catching the light with every movement.

Lila's eyes widened in mock innocence. "Oh, Chloé! I didn't mean anything—"

"Oh, cut the crap," Chloé snapped. "You've been circling like a hawk all night, waiting for your moment. And this"—she gestured at Marinette—"is your big sabotage? You insult her dress?"

Lila's expression faltered for a heartbeat before she recovered. "I was just trying to help her fit in."

Chloé rolled her eyes. "She's already outshining everyone here and she didn't have to lie about being friends with celebrities or surviving some tragic volcano rescue to do it."

A few nearby party guests, including Alya and Rose, murmured in agreement.

Marinette touched Chloé's arm gently. "It's okay. I don't want—"

"No, Dupain-Cheng," Chloé said firmly. "You don't have to take this anymore. And I'm done letting her get away with it."

Lila's smile turned brittle. "Wow, Chloé. I knew you were trying the whole redemption arc thing, but I didn't think it included licking Marinette's boots."

Chloé's eyes flashed. "I'd rather lick the floor than watch you manipulate everyone again."

Lila's face twisted, her voice dropping. "You're pathetic, Bourgeois. Clinging to scraps of attention like some loyal mutt."

Without warning, Chloé fired back, loud and furious: "You're a manipulative bitch, Lila!"

Gasps echoed around the ballroom.

Lila's mouth opened—and then her hand shot out and slapped Chloé across the face.

The crack echoed like a gunshot.

"Chloé!" Rose and Juleka gasped at once, running forward.

Adrien and Marinette both leapt into action.

Before Chloé could retaliate—because her eyes were blazing and her nails already curled like claws—Adrien grabbed her from behind and pulled her back. At the same time, Marinette stepped between her and Lila, shielding Chloé with one arm and holding up her free hand.

"Stop!" Marinette said, her voice sharp with command.

Chloé thrashed against Adrien's grip. "Let me GO, Agreste! I'm going to end her—!"

"Chloé, no!" Adrien said through clenched teeth. "Don't stoop to her level!"

Lila stood there, chest heaving, hand still twitching at her side. Her mask had cracked. People were staring. Some with shock. Some with judgment. Some—like Alya—with growing suspicion.

Marinette's voice was low but firm. "You just hit someone, Lila. At a public event."

"She provoked me!" Lila cried, grasping at the sympathy she could still salvage. "You heard her—she called me a name!"

Adrien turned toward the surrounding crowd. "Everyone heard you slap her, too."

Lila paled.

The room went uncomfortably silent.

From the corner of the ballroom, Mr. Bourgeois, who had been chatting with event staff, began making his way over with a worried look on his face. Security wasn't far behind.

Marinette glanced over her shoulder. Chloé had gone stiff, her breathing shallow, cheek already blooming red. But her pride remained intact. She stared Lila down like she hadn't just been struck.

"You should go," Marinette said quietly to Lila. "Before this gets worse."

Lila looked like she might argue—might cry, scream, spin another lie. But something in the room had shifted. Her usual spell wasn't working.

So, instead, she spun on her heel and walked out of the ballroom.

As the doors closed behind her, the guests slowly returned to their conversations, buzzing louder than before.

Adrien let go of Chloé and touched her arm. "Are you okay?"

She huffed. "I'm fine. She hits like a drama student."

Marinette gently turned her to check the cheek. "It's going to bruise."

"Then I'll wear it like a badge." Chloé smirked, even as her eyes glistened. "For once, I stood up for the right person."

Marinette stared at her for a second. "Thanks. For everything."

Chloé brushed it off. "Don't get all sappy on me. I just hate bullies more than I hate you now."

Marinette grinned. Adrien smiled, too—but behind it, something deeper stirred.

This was only going to get harder.