Chapter 3

The heavy glass doors of the private Manhattan club swung open, letting in the faint hum of string quartets and the clink of crystal flutes.

Annabel walked across the parquet floor in a simple black velvet column dress with clean, unadorned lines. She wore no jewelry, no visible logos, and her hair was gathered at the nape of her neck in a low, polished chignon.

Heads turned as she passed, murmurs rippling through the velvet-draped lounge.

Near the grand fireplace, Jaylynn Cortez sat draped over Elton's arm, holding a glass of vintage champagne. She was wearing an iridescent liquid-metal gown, sparkling brilliantly beneath the crystal chandeliers—the signature piece from the luxury house AURA's upcoming, unreleased Paris collection.

When Jaylynn spotted Annabel, her lips curved into a gloating smile. She tucked herself closer into Elton's side, her voice rising in high, syrupy tones.

"Annabel! You actually came. I was telling Elton you probably didn't have anything to wear."

Annabel stopped three paces away, her hands resting easily at her sides, her amber eyes scanning the pair like they were grease stains on a clean rug.

Elton cleared his throat, pulling his arm back slightly from Jaylynn as he looked Annabel up and down. His brows knitted together in obvious disappointment.

"Is that what you chose, Annabel? No jewelry? You look like you're attending a funeral."

Jaylynn gave a delicate, breathless laugh, smoothing her hands over her glittering hips. "Don't be too hard on her, Elton. She works so hard as an assistant. She can't afford bespoke pieces. If you had just asked, Annabel, I could have lent you one of my spare cocktail dresses."

A few socialites nearby paused their conversations, turning their glasses toward the trio with amused, predatory smirks.

Annabel tilted her head, her lips parting in a cool, razor-thin smile.

"Lend me a dress? Jaylynn, you can't even afford the one you're wearing."

The smile froze on Jaylynn's face. Her knuckles whitened around her champagne glass, her eyes welling with instant, practiced tears.

"What are you talking about? Elton had this flown in directly from Paris for me!"

"Annabel, that's enough!" Elton snapped, stepping in front of Jaylynn with his chest puffed out. "Apologize right now. Jaylynn was trying to be nice to you."

Annabel took one step forward. The quiet authority in her posture made Elton involuntarily shift his weight back.

"AURA's upcoming couture line uses patented liquid-metal silk woven with micro-reflective threads that shift under direct light," Annabel said, her voice clear and level, carrying easily across the silent circle of onlookers. "Your dress is coated in cheap synthetic spray. The weave on the left seam is pulling two inches off-center, and the neckline is cut on a polyester bias."

Gasps rippled through the surrounding crowd. An older woman in emeralds leaned forward, squinting at Jaylynn's hip, before whispering something behind her fan that caused her companion to stifle a laugh.

Jaylynn's face flushed a deep, mottled red. "You're lying! What would an architectural draftswoman know about Paris couture?"

"I don't need to explain couture to someone wearing a knockoff," Annabel said calmly.

She turned on her heel and walked toward the marble bar, leaving Elton standing in the center of the room with his ears burning and Jaylynn trembling with suppressed fury.

"Elton, do something!" Jaylynn hissed under her breath. "She just humiliated us!"

Elton grabbed her wrist, his voice tight. "Shut up. Everyone is watching."

At the bar, Annabel ordered a glass of ice water. She rested her fingers against the cold glass, her eyes scanning the room, waiting for the evening's real players to show their hands.

A sudden hush fell over the entrance.

The double doors parted again, and the background hum of the club died out completely.

Demetrius Franco walked into the room, flanked by four senior partners and his longtime friend, Keagan Hays. Demetrius wore a charcoal three-piece suit cut so sharply it seemed to carve the air around him. His presence commanded the entire space, suffocating every minor conversation in an instant.

Elton's face went from angry red to dead white. He let go of Jaylynn's arm, adjusted his tie with trembling fingers, and hurried forward with a practiced, servile bow.

"Uncle Demetrius! I didn't know you were attending tonight's gathering. Let me introduce—"

Demetrius did not break his stride. He walked straight past Elton, his shoulder brushing past his nephew as if the younger man were nothing more than a piece of hallway furniture.

His leather soles clicked rhythmically against the floor until he stopped right beside Annabel's barstool, his dark cedar scent cutting through the room's heavy perfumes.

The entire ballroom held its breath.