Sorry My Step-Uncle, I'm Not Your Backup Plan novel Chapter 12

Drake instinctively shrugged off the woman's hand from his arm. She stiffened at his reaction.

"Celine and I are friends too. Is it so strange that I'm at her birthday party?" Gabriella's smile didn't reach her eyes.

"No, I just thought you didn't like these kinds of events, so I didn't mention it," Drake said.

Gabriella laughed inwardly. Was that really the reason? Or did he deliberately keep quiet so he could bring someone else?

Drake's eyes swept the room coldly, as if demanding to know who had invited her.

Celine avoided his gaze, pretending she had nothing to do with it.

"Hi, you must be Gabriella. I'm Sienna. Drake must have mentioned me?" The woman who arrived with Drake stepped forward.

So this was Sienna—Drake's first love, his perfect memory.

The pain in Gabriella's chest was sharp and immediate. Three years of love couldn't be erased in an instant, no matter how much she wished it could.

But her mask was perfect. "Ah, Sienna. I've heard so much about you," Gabriella replied with a practiced smile.

Sienna studied her with a knowing look. "Has anyone ever told you we look alike?"

Drake's expression darkened instantly.

Gabriella caught his reaction with bitter amusement. She turned back to meet Sienna's slightly challenging gaze.

"Really?" Gabriella blinked innocently. "I don't see it. I'm prettier."

The onlookers froze. This wasn't the sweet, accommodating Gabriella they knew. Where did this fire come from?

Sensing the tension, Celine quickly intervened. "Come on, everyone, let's sit down."

Sienna forced a smile and handed Celine her gift. "Happy birthday, C."

Celine's eyes widened as she opened it—the box was identical to Gabriella's gift.

"Oh wow, I've wanted this necklace forever! Thank you, Sienna!"

Gabriella's stomach dropped. The same necklace she'd chosen?

Celine opened Gabriella's gift next. "Oh my god, Gabriella got me the same one!"

"Must be a replica," someone muttered from the back. "That necklace costs over five grand. Even at a mid-tier firm, it's a bit much for a junior associate."

The room fell silent. Judging eyes turned to Gabriella.

The irony wasn't lost on her. Despite making a respectable $165,000 at her firm—a salary that would be enviable in most circles—in Drake's world of private equity and old money, she might as well have been counting pennies. To them, she was just another junior lawyer at a commercial firm, not one of the elite M&A attorneys pulling in half a million at White & Case or Skadden.

Drake's face darkened. "Gabriella, if you needed money for a gift, you could have asked me. You didn't have to—"

Buy a fake. The unspoken accusation hung in the air.

"You think I bought a counterfeit too, Drake?" Gabriella's voice was ice.

His silence was answer enough.

"Come on, guys," Celine attempted to smooth things over, "Gabriella wouldn't do that." But even her eyes held a hint of doubt.

Gabriella's heart sank. She'd spent over five thousand dollars on that necklace out of genuine gratitude for Celine's past kindness.

Three years ago, when Gabriella had fled to New York to escape her family's marriage arrangements, she'd been cut off financially. Without using any family connections, she'd worked her way up from her first-year associate salary at a respected midsize firm. While it was a comfortable living by any reasonable standard, to Drake's social circle of hedge fund managers and venture capitalists, it might as well have been minimum wage.