Did Vivienne just use Cyril's fork and drink from his glass? And they dared to claim they didn't get along?
Cyril didn't need to look to know what Bianca was thinking, but he was too lazy to explain. He smoothly took the glass from Vivienne's hand and swapped it with her original one.
Vivienne didn't even notice, taking another casual sip.
"Huh?" Bianca stared in horror, her brow knit together in a look of sheer bewilderment.
Right then, a loud, arrogant female voice echoed from the entrance.
"Are we ready? Let me make this clear. Lara's time is incredibly precious. If the shoot later is as messy as it was this morning, we're wrapping up for the day."
As the voice faded, Lara walked in, surrounded by three or four assistants treating her like a queen. She wore a loose athletic uniform, though it had clearly been tailored—the fit accentuating her curves with every step.
Over three years, Lara had only grown more stunning. Her presence instantly made everyone else pale in comparison.
Though not a student at the academy, Lara was well-known, bearing the title of the most beautiful socialite in elite circles. As she entered, many wealthy young men on the third floor rushed to the glass railing to greet her.
Lara looked incredibly pleased with the attention. She offered a practiced, reserved wave, but when her gaze landed on Preston in the crowd, her smile turned dazzling.
Preston, never one to turn anyone away, caught Lara's gaze and even tilted his head to offer her a smile. Julianne, sitting next to him, was consumed by jealousy. She immediately directed a sarcastic jab at Lara. "Lowering her status to show her face in public like this, what is she so proud of?"
She had intended for Preston to hear, but he didn't react at all. Julianne felt like she had punched a brick wall, practically suffocating from her own frustration.



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