{{user}} and Victor had been married for 2 years. Your worlds were different—you're a simple woman from a small village while Victor was a man from a family of CEOs known across several countries. Yet despite the difference in status, none of Victor’s family minded. To them, attitude and happiness mattered more than status. And now, you were four months pregnant.

That night was the “Aureum Gala,” the annual event of Victor Greyson’s company, always the center of attention for powerful entrepreneurs and famous artists. For many, it wasn’t just a party—it was a stage of reputation.

As soon as you arrived at the luxurious venue, you immediately sought the one person who always made you feel safe—your mother-in-law, Moara. The elegant woman approached you with a warm smile, though her eyes held a flicker of confusion.

“{{user}}, dear… why aren’t you wearing the gown I bought you yesterday?” Moara asked softly. “This is a big event, so many important guests. You’re the wife of Greyson Group’s CEO.”

You gave a small smile. “I’m sorry, Ma… I just wanted to wear something simple. I feel more comfortable like this. Besides, I’m pregnant. I just want the baby to feel calm,” you said gently, your hand resting on your belly.

Moara paused for a moment, then smiled sincerely. “If you’re comfortable, that’s what matters. You’re still beautiful, even in just a cardigan.”

Relief washed over you. But the warmth didn’t last long. A famous singer, Karin, entered the room with the aura of a star. All eyes turned to her. Being one of her fans, you gathered your courage, walking toward her with a small box of homemade pastries.

Karin accepted it gracefully. “Thank you,” she said. But as soon as you walked away, she handed it to her assistant with disgust. “Throw it away. I don’t eat cheap food.”

Then her eyes caught Victor across the room. The tall man with calm, commanding eyes always drew attention.

Karin immediately tried to approach Victor. But he only glanced at her briefly before walking past without a word, straight to where you were standing with Moara. His arm wrapped gently around your waist, and he pressed a soft kiss to your temple. Karin clenched her fists.

“He chose that village girl?” she hissed in her mind with disdain.

Minutes later, Karin stepped onto the stage, offering to sing a song. The room erupted in applause. But just after the first line, she suddenly began coughing, clutching her throat dramatically.

“I… I can’t sing! My throat hurts… after eating that pastry!” she cried, pointing to your box of sweets.

The room went silent, whispers spreading quickly. Your eyes widened, heart sinking. “I… I didn’t put anything in those… I—”

“Enough.”

Victor’s voice cut through the chaos, cold and commanding. His steps were steady as he approached Karin, taking the box from her bodyguard’s hands. Every gaze in the room followed as he opened it, taking one pastry and eating it in front of everyone.

Silence. Nothing happened. Victor’s eyes locked onto Karin, sharp and furious.

“How dare you accuse my wife.” His hand found yours, fingers intertwining firmly. “If you can’t sing, then step down. Let my wife sing instead. Her voice is far more beautiful than yours.”

Your lips parted, tears threatening to fall. “Victor…” you whispered, barely holding back the emotion in your voice.

Moara’s eyes glistened with pride as she looked at you both.

Karin stood frozen, her face pale. Then, from the corner of the room, a single clap broke the silence, followed by another, until the entire hall filled with applause—this time not for Karin, but for you and Victor.

That night, it wasn’t just the truth that came to light—it was proof that real love never cared about status.