Her Revenge Was His Regret (Shirley and Gilbert) novel Chapter 437

For a moment, she felt like a wolf had locked its gaze on her.

His lashes were thick, his eyes sharp and intense, with a slight upward tilt at the outer corners—everything about him radiated a wild, untamed energy.

His jawline was sharply defined, handsome yet chillingly detached.

Those long legs of his were impossible to ignore. He stood with one hand casually tucked in his pocket, relaxed and at ease, until his lips slowly curved into a faint smile—and just like that, the feeling of being hunted seemed to fade away.

She didn't know when it started, but her cheeks grew warm and her heart began to race, pounding so hard it felt like it might leap straight out of her chest.

She'd always known he was attractive—extraordinary, even—so why did it suddenly feel like she was truly seeing him for the first time?

Sherry's first instinct was to look away. Life had sanded down every last bit of her stubbornness.

But right then, for reasons she couldn't quite name, she wanted nothing more than to be herself again—the version that had never been worn down by anything.

To hell with all the noise and the mess. In that clear, quiet moment, Sherry knew exactly what she wanted.

She propped her chin in her hand and kept her eyes fixed on Lucas.

From his spot downstairs, he could see her clearly—Sherry, leaning slightly forward, having filled out just enough to carry a look that was both cool and pretty, edged with something softly feline.

She was young. Honestly, Sherry had always been young.

But people always changed noticeably after graduation. There was a distinct air that set graduates apart from current students. Still, anyone would have believed Sherry was still in college if you'd told them so.

She was actually a little older than Lucas.

But side by side, you'd never guess their ages.

She really did look like a cool, sly little cat—even more striking than back in Virelia, because her style had grown bolder. Back then, she never showed much skin.

Now she wore a simple black off-the-shoulder dress, short and understated. Her hair was pinned up loosely with two clips, giving the playful illusion of cat ears.

From where Sherry sat, all the other women in the room looked beautiful.

What she didn't realize was that she'd made quite an impression herself when she first walked in.

There was nothing worse than believing you were unique, only to fade into the crowd amid a group of striking people. After all, in a room full of beauties, everyone stood out.

A lot of pretty faces start to look similar in a crowd; some simply get overlooked.

There was more than one woman there giving off kittenish vibes.

But Sherry had something uniquely her own—cool yet innocent, a blend that meshed perfectly with that high-maintenance, untouchable catlike aura.

Those people might have acted unbothered, but inwardly, they were thrown. The only card they held over her was status and connections—things Sherry plainly didn't have.

Not a single one dared call her anything less than beautiful.

A few even went home that night reconsidering their own look, wondering how to step it up.

But Sherry had no idea how others perceived her, especially with this new air about her.

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