But before I could move, before I could even process what had happened, a voice rang out across the room. It was deep, authoritative, and unmistakably furious. “That’s enough,” it said.

The crowd parted as a man approached, his presence commanding immediate respect. He was tall, with an air of confidence that seemed to radiate from him. I recognized him instantly—Alexander, my husband. Though we’d kept our marriage private, he was well-known in the world of business, a billionaire whose name often graced headlines.

Alexander calmly walked to my side, his gaze never leaving Daniel’s mother. “Apologize,” he said, his voice leaving no room for argument.

She faltered, taken aback by his presence and the quiet power he exuded. “I—”

“Now,” he insisted, his tone brooking no defiance.

Flustered and under the scrutiny of the guests, she mumbled an apology. Alexander gave a small nod, then turned to me, his expression softening. “Are you alright, Athena?”

I nodded, still dazed but grateful for his intervention.

With that, Alexander addressed the room, his voice steady and clear. “Athena is my wife. She is more than deserving of respect and kindness, as is every person here today. Let this be a celebration of love, not judgment.”

The tension in the room dissipated, replaced by a renewed atmosphere of celebration. As the party continued, I stayed by Alexander’s side, feeling safe and cherished. I realized that it didn’t matter how others saw me; what mattered was the love and respect I shared with the people who truly knew me.