Rebirth: The New Bride Wants A Divorce-Chapter 478: The victory wasn’t loud or defiant.

The after-party glittered with the same brilliance as the red carpet—but this time, the weight of scrutiny had lifted.

The grand ballroom had transformed into something warmer, almost intimate despite its grandeur.

Crystal chandeliers poured molten gold over clusters of laughing guests. Music drifted through the air—low, velvety, rhythmic—threading itself beneath conversations and soft bursts of laughter. Champagne glasses chimed against one another in steady celebration, a soundtrack of victory.

At the center of it all stood Wilsmith—the visionary behind the night’s sensation.

His suit jacket hung open now, tie loosened just enough to suggest the pressure of the premiere had finally eased.

A champagne flute rested loosely in his hand as his gaze swept across the room—actors glowing under praise, producers exchanging satisfied nods, cinematographers animatedly recounting favorite shots, assistants who looked equal parts exhausted and triumphant.

His army.

His dream.

"Can I have everyone’s attention for a moment?" he called, warmth threading through his voice.

The room gradually softened. Conversations dimmed. Glasses paused mid-air.

Wilsmith stepped onto the small platform near the band, lifting his glass slightly—not in arrogance, but in gratitude.

"Tonight," he began, emotion thick but unhidden, "is not just about a successful premiere."

He let the silence settle.

"It’s about belief."

Something in the room shifted. Laughter faded completely.

"This project started as an idea scribbled in the margins of a notebook." He gave a small, self-aware smile. "It was rejected twice. Delayed once. And questioned more times than I can count."

A ripple of knowing chuckles passed through the crowd.

"But every single person here—every crew member who stayed past midnight adjusting one more frame, every actor who gave more than what was written in the script, every investor who trusted a vision that wasn’t guaranteed—you made this happen."

Applause swelled, sincere and rising.

Wilsmith’s smile softened. His gaze drifted toward one particular table.

"And I want to especially thank Daniel Clafford."

Attention shifted instantly.

Daniel, seated beside Anna, offered a composed nod but remained seated. He had never been one to chase spotlights.

"When others saw risk," Wilsmith continued, voice firm now, "he saw potential. He didn’t just fund this film. He stood behind it when it wasn’t easy to. He believed in the vision when belief was scarce."

Another wave of applause broke out, louder this time.

Wilsmith looked at Daniel directly. "You trusted me. And that trust turned this into what it is tonight." 𝐟𝕣𝕖𝐞𝐰𝕖𝚋𝐧𝗼𝚟𝐞𝕝.𝗰𝐨𝐦

The room erupted in approval.

"And of course..." His expression gentled as his eyes found Anna. "To our leading lady."

Anna straightened slightly, poised but calm.

"You didn’t just play the role," he said quietly. "You lived it. Tonight, the audience didn’t see a character—they saw truth. And that’s rare."

For a fraction of a second, something flickered in Anna’s eyes—relief, pride, vindication. Then she smiled, graceful and composed.

Wilsmith lifted his glass higher.

"To courage. To risk. To relentless effort. And to success that was earned."

"Cheers!" the room echoed.

Crystal met crystal in a unified chime.

At their table, Daniel and Anna applauded along with everyone else. It wasn’t polite applause—it was proud. Grounded. Personal.

Daniel leaned slightly toward her, his voice low enough that it belonged only to her.

"Told you they’d get their answer."

Anna turned her head just enough to meet his gaze. Under the golden lights, her eyes glowed—not with defiance this time, but with quiet satisfaction.

"Looks like they did," she murmured.

Around them, the room returned to celebration. Laughter rose. Music swelled louder. Congratulations traveled from table to table like a wave.

But between them, something else lingered.

No scandal.

No spectacle.

Just shared victory.

And tonight, that felt like enough.

"Thankfully, we were spared," Anna muttered, darting her gaze toward the side where Kathrine sat beside Ethan.

Ethan exhaled dramatically, leaning back in his chair as if he had just survived a battlefield. "You have no idea," he said. "I came fully prepared this time. Three different media strategies. Two emergency responses. And one very mature speech about accountability."

Kathrine smirked. "He practiced in the mirror."

Ethan shot her a look. "It was a strategic rehearsal."

"But thankfully," Kathrine added with a relieved sigh, "they were far more understanding than we expected."

Ethan lifted his glass toward Anna and Daniel. "That’s because you two cleared the path for the rest of us. Took the heat. Let the dust settle."

Daniel gave a faint shrug, but Anna caught the subtle tightening in his jaw. He hadn’t enjoyed that heat—but he had endured it.

"So," Ethan continued, a grin spreading across his face, "cheers to the couple who won through every odd stacked against them."

"Cheers!" Betty chimed enthusiastically, lifting her wine glass a little too eagerly.

Before she could take a sip, Shawn smoothly intercepted it.

"No," he said firmly, sliding the glass back onto the table. "You are not getting drunk tonight."

Betty’s mouth fell open in dramatic offense. "Excuse me?"

"You promised," he reminded, his tone gentle but unyielding.

She crossed her arms and pouted, though the sparkle in her eyes betrayed her amusement.

Anna and Kathrine exchanged knowing smiles. They both understood the source of Shawn’s concern—and the softness hidden beneath his sternness.

"You could’ve at least given me a heads-up," Kevin groaned from across the table, running a hand through his hair. "I was out there sweating bullets thinking you weren’t going to show up."

His eyes landed on Anna, but the accusation lacked bite.

"I could literally feel myself aging in real time," he continued dramatically. "Stress is not good for my skincare routine."

A laugh slipped from Anna before she could stop it.

"Relax," Daniel said dryly. "You’re still painfully young."

"Easy for you to say," Kevin shot back. "You thrive in chaos. Some of us prefer stability."

"Some of us," Ethan added under his breath, "invite chaos."

Anna pretended not to hear that.

The table dissolved into laughter again, lighter now—freer.

And as the music swelled and the golden lights shimmered above them, Anna let herself sit in it. Not the noise. Not the praise.

The peace.

For once, the victory wasn’t loud or defiant.

It was steady.

And it was theirs.