The black-and-gold banner fluttered above the entrance of the Luxe Royale Hotel. Paparazzi clustered at the main gates like a colony of eager bees, camera flashes bursting in rapid succession as each luxury car rolled up to the curb. Laughter, the sharp clink of champagne flutes, and the soft notes of a live string quartet spilled from the open glass doors into the cool evening air.
Lily stepped out of the taxi, her heels clicking against the polished stone driveway. The soft fabric of her pale beige dress shifted around her ankles with the breeze simple, modest, and a far cry from the glittering gowns sweeping across the red carpet nearby. She smoothed her skirt, took a breath, and reminded herself why she was here.
This wasn’t the first time she had attended such a glittering event. But in the past, she had always walked in David’s shadow, introduced as Mr. Cole’s secretary while he navigated business deals and she stayed politely in the background. Tonight was different. Tonight, she had come for herself no longer anyone’s assistant, no longer clinging to someone else’s name.
Still… she felt the weight of every curious glance from the crowd.
Her thoughts were scattered when a sleek, obsidian Bentley rolled to a stop a few feet away. She knew that car. Even before the chauffeur opened the door, her chest tightened.
David stepped out first, tall and impeccably dressed in a charcoal tuxedo that fit him like it had been sewn on his frame. His expression was cool, almost impassive, until his gaze swept the crowd and landed on her. For a fraction of a second, something sharp flashed in his eyes. Curiosity. Displeasure. Both, perhaps.
A second door opened, and Marina emerged, draped in a crimson gown that clung to her like molten silk. The cut was daring, the slit at her thigh deliberate, and the diamonds at her throat caught every glint of light from the hotel entrance. Her manicured hand curled around David’s arm as she followed his line of sight.
When she spotted Lily, her painted lips curved into a slow, cold smile.
“Well, well…” Marina’s voice dripped with honeyed venom as she and David approached. “If it isn’t the little secretary. My, you’ve upgraded from fetching coffee to… what? Crashing birthday events?”
Lily’s spine stiffened, but she kept her voice calm. “I’m here as a guest.”
“A guest?” Marina’s gaze swept over Lily’s attire, eyes lingering on the plain cut of her dress. She gave a delicate laugh, the kind meant to draw attention from nearby guests. “Darling, if you’re going to invent a story, at least make it believable. Whose ‘guest’ shows up looking like… that?”
Lily’s lips twitched into the faintest smile. “A friend invited me.”
“Mm.” Marina’s disbelief was almost theatrical. “A friend.” She tilted her head. “Does this friend of yours happen to be the kind who gives very generous allowances?”
David’s eyes were still fixed on Lily, but his expression was unreadable—except for the faint crease between his brows. “Who’s your friend?” he asked, his tone casual but his gaze probing.
Before Lily could answer, a ripple of surprise passed through the onlookers. A tall man in a crisp black suit had approached from the entrance—one of the gala’s senior butlers, his silver hair immaculately combed.
“Miss Lily,” he said warmly, with the respectful bow usually reserved for heads of corporations or high-profile donors. “Welcome. Miss Claire has been expecting you.”
He extended an arm, gesturing toward the grand staircase. “Allow me to escort you inside.”


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