As dusk settled, Wesley personally drove Charlotte back to Tranquility Manor. Just as she was about to get out of the car, he spoke up. “Are you free after eight tonight?”

Charlotte paused at the door, puzzled. “Why?”

“I’ve got a dinner party tonight,” he exined. “I’m new in the city and don’t really know anyone else. Would you be my date?”

He looked at her, then added thoughtfully, “I can pay you extra.”

Charlotte agreed without hesitation.

Wesley simply smiled, saying nothing.

But she grew serious for a moment. “No need for more money. For Mrs. Rayburn’s sake, I’ll be your date for free.”

He was already paying her a thousand dors a day–more than enough. She wasn’t greedy.

A flicker of surprise shed in Wesley’s eyes. Then he grinned, his eyes crinkling. “I’lle pick you upter.”

After he left, Charlotte went inside and took a long, hot shower.

She opened a drawer and found it filled with cosmetics, standing there in a daze for a while. She’d almost forgotten that she used to love dressing up–that she hadn’t really made an effort in a long time.

Staring at her reflection, she saw not only herself but also the girl she used to be–six years spent begging for love, desperately trying to please someone who never cared.

Tonight, she decided it was time to make peace with the past–and with herself.

Night had fallen, and the city glowed with streetlights. Wesley waited by his car, ncing toward the manor just as she appeared. Charlotte moved with quiet confidence, wearing a vintage velvet red dress with a square neckline, strappy heels clicking softly on the pavement. Her long hair, softly curled, cascaded over

her shoulders.

She was the kind of woman whose striking features needed little embellishment.

b13:11 /b

Heavy makeup would have ruined the effect, but tonight she wore only a touch of rouge on her lips–enough to set off her elegant bone structure and luminous skin.

Wesley looked her over, genuine admiration in his eyes. “That dress suits you.”

“Thank you,” Charlotte replied with a smile.

She didn’t know much about the evening’s event–just that it was a charity g hosted by somepany’s senior partner, and the guest list was small.

The venue was Celestia Towers, the city’s most famous and luxurious hotel. Not just a ce for fine dining, Celestia Towers was the only restaurant in the capital licensed to host antique auctions. The most exclusive private room, “The Imperial Suite,” required a minimum spend of thirty thousand dors a night. Itsvish décor was modeled after an old European pce,plete with a private spa, live chamber music, and tableware crafted from fine porcin and crystal.

Charlotte and Wesley stepped inside, taking a moment to admire the opulent surroundings. An attendant in a crisp uniform led them to the banquet hall, opening the doors so they could slip quietly into the crowd.

It didn’t take long for Charlotte to draw attention.

“Is she some actress? I don’t recognize her from the tabloids.”

“Probably not from showbiz–she’s too elegant for that.”

“She’s absolutely stunning!”

A middle–aged man approached, champagne ss in hand, and greeted Wesley with a warm handshake. “Mr. Rayburn, I’m honored you epted my invitation.”

Wesley offered a polite smile, his every movement refined. “You’re too kind.”

The man’s gaze shifted to Charlotte. “And this is…?”

Charlotte extended her hand. “Charlotte,” she said simply.

No titles, no borate introductions–just her name. In a world obsessed with status, her directness was surprisingly refreshing.

The host hesitated, then smiled and shook her hand. They exchanged a few more pleasantries before a group of guests, clearly eager to meet Wesley, drew him

away.

As Charlotte turned, she spotted Jonathan across the room. He raised his ss in greeting.

??

b13:11 /b

Charlotte made her way through the crowd to him. “Jonathan, you’re here too?”

He looked her up and down, his gaze lingering. “I am. But I didn’t expect to see you here–with Mr. Rayburn, no less. I guess I underestimated you.”

“He’s something of a benefactor,” she replied.

Jonathan’s eyes softened. He reached out, gently twirling a lock of her hair around his finger. “You hardly ever dress up. You look beautiful.”

Charlotte froze, caught off guard by his sudden tenderness.

“Mr. Howard!”

A voice called out from behind them. Charlotte stiffened, turning her head toward the crowd.

And in that instant, her gaze locked with a pair of dark, fathomless eyes.