Once Downtrodden; Now Divine

Chapter 7

That night, Jaxon and Jane arrived at Liverpool Hotel, the venue for the charity gala.

Several important guests arrived in luxury cars that stretched down the block, each disembarking in finely tailored suits and gowns worth more than most people’s yearly salaries. 

Every major family in Boston had sent representatives, and rumors swirled that Ivy would announce new partnerships that could reshape the balance of power.

As soon as Jaxon and Jane entered, eyes turned.

“Look—it’s Jaxon Brown and Jane Wilson,” someone whispered from behind a champagne glass.

“I heard they might formalize their engagement tonight.”

“If Jane manages to tie herself to the Browns, her family would be more rich and influential.”

The two had become the talk of Boston lately, and rumors of their engagement filled the tabloids and gossip circles. 

Ever since Donald’s scandal two years ago when he was accused of rape, no one thought he and Jane were a match anymore. 

In the eyes of society, it was only natural, even inevitable, that Jane would seek someone else, someone powerful enough to match her family’s standing.

Jane leaned closer to Jaxon, her face glowing with pride at the attention as she clutched his arm.

“Thank you again, Jaxon,” she said sweetly, lowering her voice so only he could hear. “

If I can truly meet Ivy Harrington tonight… if I can just secure her cooperation, then my family will rise higher than ever. You don’t know how much this means to me."

Jaxon forced a polite smile, though inwardly he was growing weary. 

Her endless excitement and lack of subtlety grated on him. 

“We’ll discuss that after we secure a partnership,” he replied flatly, scanning the room rather than meeting her eyes.

Jane, oblivious to his indifference, nodded eagerly and clung tighter to his arm.

As they ascended the red-carpeted staircase toward the ballroom doors, Jane’s gaze swept the crowd—and froze. 

Her breath hitched, and disbelief twisted across her face.

There, only a few steps away, walking with composed confidence, was Donald.

He didn't look like the same Donald she had always known. This time, he wore a custom-tailored suit and his posture was commanding. 

His tall, broad-shouldered frame filled the suit perfectly, exuding quiet authority. His neatly styled hair, his calm gaze, and the way he carried himself drew eyes toward him.

Several people nearby paused mid-conversation, their glances following him in faint surprise and admiration. 

Donald, however, moved as though unaware of the attention.

His expression was steady and his steps were confident, every inch the image of a man who belonged among the city’s elite.

For a moment, Jane thought her eyes were deceiving her. But no, everything about him confirmed it was Donald.

Her breath caught. 

How… how did he end up here? she wondered, her gaze instinctively sweeping over him from head to toe. 

And that suit… where on earth did he get something like that? The cut was exquisite—far beyond anything she remembered him owning. It looked expensive, the kind of suit tailored for old money and power, not for the man she believed was a failure!

Jane’s heart thudded uncomfortably in her chest. 

How could this be the same Donald she knew?

When did he start looking like that… like someone who actually belonged here?

“Jaxon,” she hissed, tugging at his arm. 

“Wait here—I need to deal with that loser first.”

Before Jaxon could protest, Jane broke away and strode straight toward Donald, her heels clicking sharply against the marble.

“Donald!” she snapped.

Heads turned curiously toward the sudden commotion.

Donald paused mid-step, glancing at her with mild surprise.

Jane’s face twisted with anger. 

“Haven’t you had enough?” she snapped. “You followed me to DeGrand Corporation this morning, and now you show up here too? Why can’t you just give up already?!”

Donald blinked, slightly amused by her sudden outburst. 

Jane’s fingers suddenly shot forward, clutching the lapel of his blazer as if to prove he was real.

“Where did you even get this?” she hissed. 

“Do you think you can just throw on a knockoff and fool people here?”

Donald’s gaze dropped to her hand, his expression cold and unreadable. 

With a flick of his wrist, he shook her off effortlessly.

“Careful,” he said coolly, brushing the spot where she’d grabbed him. “You might wrinkle something worth more than you’ll ever make in your lifetime.”

Jane froze and color flooded her cheeks. 

Donald’s calm, almost lazy smirk only deepened the humiliation burning through her.

Jane’s lips curved into a tight, cold smile.

“You loser! We both know you didn’t buy that suit. Did you just forget to return it after playing chauffeur for some rich folk?”

She tilted her head, eyes glinting. 

“Don’t act like you’re suddenly a man of class, Donald. The label doesn’t make you one!"

"O

Upon hearing this, Jane let out a short, mocking laugh, loud enough for those around to hear. 

“An invitation? Seriously?” Jane snapped. 

“You’re really going to try that pathetic lie again? 

What is it this time — craving a public beating? One more stunt like this and security won’t bother dragging you out politely; they’ll smash you until you stop moving!”

Donald sighed, shaking his head. 

“Whether you believe me is your choice. But don’t forget that last time, you didn’t believe me either and in the end, you were the one escorted out by security.”

Gasps rippled through the nearby crowd at Donald's retort.

 Jane’s cheeks flamed red with humiliation.

“You—!” she sputtered, grabbing a fistful of his suit jacket. 

“Stop pretending! What kind of important figure are you trying to play at? Where did you even find this knockoff suit?!”

Donald’s eyes sharpened. 

“Oh, you really want to know? It’s genuine.”

Jane scoffed. 

“Please. The divorce agreement stripped you bare. You could barely scrape enough to cover your rent, yet you expect me to believe you bought this suit? Even if you slaved away for the rest of your life, you wouldn’t be able to afford a single thread of it!”

Donald’s lips curled faintly.

 “Who said I bought it myself when it could just be a gift."

Jane narrowed her eyes. 

“Don’t tell me you’re about to spin another pathetic lie!” Jane’s voice rose, dripping with mockery. She gestured toward the black envelope in Donald’s hand as if it were some cheap counterfeit.

“What next? You’ll say Ivy Harrington herself—the woman hosting this gala—gifted you that?” Her laughter rang sharp and cruel, drawing a few amused glances from nearby guests.

“You really don’t know when to stop humiliating yourself, do you? Ivy’s league is galaxies above yours, Donald. She wouldn’t even let someone like you carry her coat, let alone hand you a VVIP invite.”

She folded her arms, smirking. “How desperate can you get? Go on, then. Tell us another story."

Donald looked her dead in the eye. 

“Yes. Ivy gave it to me. And that’s the part you’ll never get over.”

Jane stared at him for a beat, then burst into laughter, clutching her stomach as she bent over. 

“Oh, this is rich! You’re really going insane! Tell me—did Ivy Harrington also hand you a golden banquet invitation personally?”

Donald nodded. “She did.”

Her laughter grew louder, drawing more onlookers. 

“Show me, then! Show me this so-called invitation!”

Without hesitation, Donald pulled out a sleek black envelope with the golden phoenix crest stamped on its surface. 

The VVIP invitation gleamed under the chandelier lights.

A murmur rippled through the nearby guests — a few even leaned closer, eyes widening in recognition. They’d seen that crest before. Only the most powerful received those.

But while the crowd’s tone shifted from mockery to stunned curiosity, Ivy’s lips merely curved, skeptical, and faintly amused, as if the entire room had fallen for an illusion she could already see through.

Jane blinked, then threw her head back and laughed even harder.

“My god, you didn’t even bother comparing your forgery with the real thing, did you? Look!”

She dragged Jaxon over, her hand trembling from laughter, as she proudly held up their regular invitation. 

The card gleamed beneath the chandelier. It was thick ivory stock, embossed with gold filigree and sealed with the Harrington family’s crest.

It was elegant, official, and unmistakably authentic.

“This is the real deal, issued directly by the Harrington family. See the difference? Yours is fake—pitifully fake!”

Donald’s patience thinned. 

He slipped his phone from his pocket and dialed swiftly.

"Bianca,” Donald said coolly when the voice answered. 

It had been Ivy’s secretary who accidentally had Donald escorted out of DeGrand Corporation the last time.

“If you really want to redeem yourself for today’s mistake, pass on my message immediately. Tell Miss Harrington to revoke the entry privileges of Jaxon Brown and Jane Wilson.”

Gasps erupted.

Jane and Jaxon looked at each other, then burst into derisive laughter.

“Oh, this is priceless,” Jane sneered. 

“You think you can get us banned with a phone call? Still pretending to be some big shot, loser?”

Jaxon smirked, folding his arms. 

“You’re such a fool. Do you really think anyone will believe you over us?”

Donald hung up without another word, slipping his phone back into his pocket. He met their mocking gazes with a faint, cold smile. 

“Why don’t we see who can actually enter the gala?”

Jane sneered. “Gladly.”

Just then, the head of security stepped out from the ballroom door. His voice carried firmly:

“Attention, everyone. The guest list has been updated. All attendees must now verify their identities against the list before entry—regardless of whether they already hold invitations. This adjustment was made after we noticed certain irregularities on-site.”

Jane and Jaxon exchanged knowing looks and smirked in satisfaction.

“See?” Jane whispered smugly.

“Looks like they finally caught on,” Jane sneered.

 “They must’ve noticed something suspicious—and it’s all thanks to your cheap forgery, Donald!"

Jaxon folded his arms, smirking. “It’s over for you, loser. Be smart and save yourself the humiliation. Get lost before security drags you out again.”

Donald stood motionless for a beat. 

Then, without a word, he began walking toward the head of security.

Jane blinked, then burst into laughter so loud a few heads turned. 

“Oh, this is gold! He’s actually going up there! Does he really think they’ll let a broke ex-con waltz into a VVIP gala?”

Jaxon smirked, lips curling. “Let him go. He’s about to get taught the difference between dreaming and belonging.”

Donald didn’t even glance at them. He adjusted his cufflinks and walked straight to the head of security with the same composure one might have when walking into his own home.

Everyone nearby turned to watch with curiosity and amusement flickering across their faces. 

Donald’s steady footsteps echoed sharply against the marble floor as he approached the security captain.

He handed over his VVIP invitation without hesitation.

The captain scanned the code on the invitation. 

The small beep from the device echoed louder than it should have. He frowned slightly, then his entire posture changed.

He straightened immediately, eyes snapping up to Donald with sudden alertness. 

His voice came out firm and respectful.

“Mr. Smith… welcome. We’ve been expecting you.”

The crowd froze.

Jane’s laughter died mid-breath and Jaxon’s smirk stiffened like wet paint drying too fast.

Donald’s lips twitched into a faint smile. But instead of walking through the open doors, he stopped—and slowly turned around.

Every eye followed him.

Jane and Jaxon stood rooted to the spot.

Jane’s fake confidence shattered instantly as her lips trembled, eyes darting between Donald and the head of security.

Jaxon looked pale and furious, jaw tight, shoulders stiff, as if he’d just swallowed humiliation itself.

Donald’s gaze swept over them coldly.

“What happened? Weren’t you just warning me to get lost before security ‘dragged me out’?” He gestured casually toward the open door. 

“Funny, it seems they’re the ones waiting for me now.”

Jane blinked rapidly, her face paling. 

“T-there’s no way—this must be some mistake—”

Donald’s soft chuckle cut through her words.

“Oh, Jane. Still trying to sound relevant? You never did know when to keep your mouth shut.”

Jane’s face flamed crimson.

Donald didn’t spare her another glance. 

His gaze shifted to Jaxon, his smirk hardening.

“And you Jaxon,” he said, “Boston’s future billionaire, wasn’t it? The man who ‘personally knows everyone on the guest list’? Strange—they didn’t even recognize your name. Maybe the list got updated to filter out the wannabes.”

Jaxon’s nostrils flared as he stepped forward, but before he could react, Donald turned away and strode into the gala, without looking back..

Jane and Jaxon stood frozen, their smug expressions crumbling into disbelief.

“This has to be a mistake!” Jane shouted, dragging Jaxon forward. 

“Check again! Look carefully—he’s a fraud! Donald Smith cannot be on the list!”

The officer gave her a cold look. 

“There is no mistake. Mr Smith is on the updated list, personally approved by Miss Harrington herself.”

Jane’s face drained of color.

Jaxon clenched his jaw.

“Trust me, that’s impossible. That man is a nobody, a complete failure! He’s not even fit to step near the gate, let alone receive a special invitation. Check again, and then verify ours,” he said, shoving his invitation forward. 

The officer scanned their invitations, his expression darkening. 

With a curt gesture, he pushed them both aside. 

“You are not on the guest list. And don't you dare to disturb an honored guest again.”