"I Am Never Second Best." Her Ego Wouldn't Allow It, What She Lacked In Ego She Made Up For In Delusion.

This wedding was a good one to take as an example, on what to do and what not to do. For example she would not have gone for blue bridesmaids dresses, at least for a late spring wedding. Serra looked upwards, trying to ground herself and appear calm. "No, I'm not talking about Nick. I do not care about him." She forced a smile onto her face in case people were looking over at them, so at least from a distance it seemed like they were having a pleasant conversation. So he was going with deflection, making a little joke to hide what was actually going on. Not the best idea. It was clear that he didn't know that she knew what was actually going on. "I'm talking about your little charity case." Disgust came over her features for a moment before she hid it. "I know everything. So don't bother denying it." She didn't actually, but if he thought she did he'd confess quicker.

There were probably other people in the room who were also planning their wedding and taking notes, other people who were betrothed. Malcolm felt sorry for them as he had both a traditionally arranged marriage with his former betrothed and in his eyes, it was also a love match. He couldn't say the same for the others who were begrudgingly matched with boring partners. Malcolm nodded, subtly taking her words as an invitation to plan their wedding while at one already. Malcolm smiled at Serra, his eyes softening and maybe he would blame the alcohol later as Emir and Agatha must've paid handsomely for it to taste this good. "Well, I don't have as much family as you, besides Estelle, so that should be ea-" he began with a shrug then stopped. Maybe he didn't hear her right, his eyes squinting in confusion and his brow dipped in response. "My mistress? I don't...oh," he said with a humble chuckle. "You mean Nick. I know he's not everyone's favorite, but he will be in attendance of course, hopefully standing right next to me as well."

Alara pouted, crossing her arms, her eyes flashing with anger before she schooled her face into a mask of indifference. Getting angry and upset wasn't a good look. Alara was just trying to rile her up. "My parents aren't your parents. They care about what I want."

Alara knew better that her parents did not listen to her and this was bound to happen. They didn't care if she married for love or not. It was all status. "You think you matter because you are the heir?" She can't hold back a laugh. "You are a woman, the family name dies with you. They'd have cared if you were a male. Don't play stupid, unless you are that delusional." Which she was betting on the latter.

"Because bothering you is so fun." It was one of her favorite past times. after all, ever since she had been a little girl. "Is your fiancé here tonight or did he make you come alone?"

Serra was the last person Alara wished to run into. Not in the mood to deal with her cousin, or the judgement that came from her, she lets out a sigh. "Why don't you find someone else to bother." The sooner the other took off she could go off to find Evan.

"That's good. I'm glad to hear it." Being a good host was important, even if technically her parents were hosting this birthday party and she was the guest of honor she felt like hostess duties did apply to her. "I speak French fluently so I had no issues there." She exclaimed quite proudly. "I was shadowing a french designer, learning her craft. It was quite educational." Fashion had always interested her. "I suggest getting them started on lessons early, it is much easier to learn a language as a child."

"I'm sure she is," Rabastan replied without hesitation, knowing that Alecto would simply make her own fun if she were bored. At her latter assessment, he laughed, quiet yet clipped. "Some of us are better made for the limelight, it seems. Do tell me about Paris. What were you doing there and have you learned any French? I will take my children when they're older. It's important they know their roots."

"Those are two of my favorite words. Closely following diamonds and presents." She had never made an attempt in faking humility, she'd never be any good at it. Serra oozed privilege and high standards, spending money and never wondering if it would stop coming.

"You would assume so, but alas.." She trailed off, shrugging her shoulders. "They have always liked him, but come on."

"You had me at champagne and shopping," Willa smiled warmly, lifting her cup of tea and taking a small sip. While her father did provide Willa and her mother, the difference between Willa and her peers was evident. She had enough to live a lavish life in London, but not quite Paris.

"Your birthday party seems very harsh," She stated, surprised. "And quite a public setting too, would it not have been smarter to organise something a bit more private?" Willa knew if it was her ex, she would much rather an intimate setting to reunite.

Serra jumped back as the ferret made contact with her shoes, shrieking. "Get that thing off of me." She wasn't good with animals, they had too much fur and it got everywhere. And she had a bad experience with a cat once. "I don't like anything with more than two legs. It's eyes are creepy too."

"She's not a thing, she's a ferret!" Clyde protested, not bothering to stop Bonnie from running over to sniff at Serra's shoes. There was absolutely nothing wrong with ferrets. Bonnie had all her shots and was the most well-behaved affectionate little thing. Why would Serra hate her? "What have you got against her, then?"

A little slow on the uptake, Serra needed some time to process what was actually going on, stuck in the deluded fantasy that this couldn't possibly be happening right now. It couldn't be some bad joke as no one had that terrible of a sense of humor, but that left one option: Malcolm actually cheating on her. Why he would ever do that made no sense to her, she knew he liked her, showing her off proudly and showering her with attention. "It's complicated? It's complicated?!" Her voice grew louder, anger and frustration obvious. He didn't deny it. He called Charity crazy, yes, but he didn't call her a liar. That distinction was important to her. Her world turned upside down again, stuck in a nightmare version of the present. Her boyfriend cheated on her and then submitted her to public humiliation. "You were gonna tell me? When? After you slept with me too?" Tears built up in her eyes again. This was truly the worst day of her whole fifteen years of life. "We're done. I'm breaking up with you." Turning to Charity she didn't bother hiding the hatred in her eyes rolling her eyes when she talked about them deserving each other. She deserved better than this and she wasn't going to let him keep playing her for a fool. "Yeah I don't want him anymore. Have fun with my leftovers. I know that's why you wanted him in the first place. Can't be like me so you try taking what's mine. Well you got him. Congratulations."

Malcolm was drowning in a self-made hell. He focused on Serra, her nose clearly destroyed, while desperately trying to extricate himself from the chaos he'd ignited. Charity, a ghost from his disastrous final year, stood opposite. The engagement contract, a desperate, callus-forming grasp at a solution, had trapped him. He needed Serra to leave him, to buy time to dismantle that contract—time and resources he didn't have within these cursed castle walls. His solution, a twisted logic, had been to engineer a breakup, something more dramatic than a simple "it's over." He'd known Serra wouldn't accept the truth. So, he'd manipulated, leading him to a hidden alcove with Charity. He hadn't intended to sleep with her, that intimacy reserved for Serra. But things spiraled, and now, here he was.

He struggled to rein in his panic, to find some semblance of sense, but a blinding pain erupted in his jaw. "You're fucking crazy,-" he said, too distracted now by his own pain that his hand clutched at that he didn't even hear her at first. Shit. Malcolm was glaring over Serra at Charity, and the raw ache in Serra's tone softened his own anger. "It's-it's complicated-I was going to tell you-"

@alaraselwyn

"Mr. Lestrange. It is an honor to have you here tonight." Her parents had instilled good manners into her at an early age, especially to those pureblood families they deemed worth it. The Lestrange family was an honorable one, an influential one. "Thank you, that is very kind of you." And true, obviously. She knew how good she looked. It was a fact. "Oh, that is quite lovely. Thank you." It would suit the powder blue dress she had gotten last week. "I am, very much so. What about you?"

Rabastan was indifferent to Serra. He barely knew the girl, and did not especially care to rectify that social distance. Still, he was here at her parents' invitation, so it was only polite to wish her a 'happy birthday'.

"Miss Borgin," he greeted, taking a moment to note her appearance. That dress certainly stood out. No doubt it had been her aim. He smiled, offering her a glass of champagne. "Happy birthday. You look very lovely. Alecto and I brought you a gift. We left it with your parents when we arrived." It was a small thing; an antique carryall, solid gold and decorated with pearls, containing a mirror, powder, comb, lipstick, etc. "Are you enjoying your evening?"

"Good." She was pleased, happy that there was one of the few people she actually liked present. "Why? What else have you got in mind?"

"I wouldn't have missed it, silly." Lydia said with a smile. This party was huge, maybe more than even Lydia would've preferred, but everyone did seem to be having a good time. "This isn't the only thing you're doing for your birthday, is it?"