CHAPTER 144: HER ELEGANT DEBUT

The Pearl Hall,

The banquet hall was nothing short of breathtaking. Gone was the candlelit terrace glow. Inside, a warm gold tone embraced every corner, like champagne had seeped into the walls.

Low crystal chandeliers twinkled overhead, catching the light from tall taper candles flickering gently between floral arrangements in pale pink and soft green.

The velvet chairs were arranged around round tables that were draped in ivory linen. Every napkin was silk-folded, every piece of cutlery laid with precision.

"The lighting in here is so flattering," one woman whispered.

"Of course it is," another replied with a sip of wine. "Seraphina knows her angles, and ours."

Seraphina Astor, radiant in emerald satin, gracefully accepted compliments like she was born for it.

Laughter scattered lightly around the room as everyone chatted.

Waiters in white gloves moved silently between tables, offering signature cocktails: The Velvet Hour, Astor Whisper, Pearl Drop Martini. Each name was elegantly etched on the menu card in gold foil.

In one corner, women lingered by a tall mirrored setup where delicate perfume bottles sat like crystal jewels. A woman dabbed a French scent behind her wrist and smelled it. "This one smells like old money and secrets."

Another tried on a minimalist emerald necklace at the adjoining jewelry counter and gasped, "Seraphina really outdid herself."

"It’s not just an event," someone mused. "It’s an experience."

Seraphina turned at that, smiling faintly as her gaze scanned the glowing faces around her. Compliments floated in the air, warm, pleasant, and just enough to make her feel like the star of the night.

"I have to say, this is the most tasteful party I’ve attended in years," said a woman in mauve silk.

Another chimed in, "It’s the uniqueness, you know? The touch of something different."

Then, as if fate had a cruel sense of timing, someone added with a cheerful clink of her glass, "That’s all thanks to Aveline Laurent, isn’t it? Her sense of detail and taste? Unmatched!"

"She is always known for impeccable taste. We got to experience it today," another one admired.

Seraphina’s smile didn’t falter, but her fingers tensed slightly on her glass stem.

Aveline. Of course.

Still, Seraphina kept her glow intact. She let the comment pass like a breeze, nothing to be swatted at.

Just then, heads began turning toward the entrance. A hush fell over the hall. It was not dramatic, but magnetic enough. Conversations paused and actions stilled.

And Aveline Laurent walked in, embodying both grace and confidence.

Everyone there had heard of her. Gossiped about the elusive Laurent daughter who had stirred waves without ever trying. But very few of them had seen her.

Now, all eyes found her.

"Who is she?" someone murmured.

"That’s Aveline Laurent," another one responded without averting her eyes from Aveline.

Aveline wasn’t dressed to impress, yet the impression she left was sharp and bold. Structured high-waisted trousers and a sculpted blazer left open to reveal a sharp sweetheart-cut crop top underneath. The silhouette was sleek, unapologetically feminine, and deliberate.

On her wrist, an ultra-rare Patek Philippe Grand didn’t go unnoticed. Her heels clicked softly, each step confident and unforgettable.

Someone who knew her grinned and muttered under her breath, "Here comes our pretty event manager."

Before Aveline could even spot Seraphina, a wave of women moved toward her.

"You must be Aveline!"

"Goodness, you’re stunning!"

"Where is that suit from?"

"I would like to hire your stylist, Ms. Laurent."

Aveline barely managed to focus on one as another was talking right after. Yet, she flashed a polite smile to each one who met her eyes.

Because those were her future clients. They hosted more parties than men hosting business parties. She had to stay calm for her business.

After a point, her jaw started to ache from how practiced her smile was. She didn’t even have the time to step further while circled by chiffon, satin, and floating perfume.

’Oh, Mom, where are you? Save me before I run from here,’ she thought.

As if she heard her daughter’s cue, Margaret Laurent set her glass aside.

With a raised brow and a smile far too diplomatic, she slid into the crowd like a queen parting the sea. "Shouldn’t the focus be on the host and the party tonight," she said, "rather than the event manager?" There was a pause. Her tone wasn’t biting, but the point was clear.

The women laughed off the hint. "Oh, please, Mrs. Laurent, Seraphina wouldn’t mind it," one said, waving it off.

All eyes turned to Seraphina, who smiled graciously. "Of course not," she said, her voice velvety. "Carry on."

But inside, she knew it. Tonight was meant to be her elegant debut into the season’s most exclusive circle. Instead, it had become Aveline Laurent’s silent entrance into society, and they welcomed her like a celebrity arriving fashionably late.

Still, she wouldn’t sulk. She wouldn’t claw. Instead, Seraphina waded through the crowd with poise and gently took Aveline’s hand.

"Let’s give our pretty guest some space to breathe, ladies," she said.

The women chuckled and stepped aside, amused.

Seraphina wasn’t done.

"I also have a question for Ms. Laurent," she announced, drawing a few curious glances. "How are you so pretty?"

The women began chuckling as if it were the smoothest joke they’d ever heard.

Aveline smiled, barely in response, but she wasn’t flattered. Because she saw it.

The mask Seraphina wore. It was carved from the same material Damien had worn for two years before her regression. That charming, polished smile hides something poisonous underneath.

And she wasn’t here to be entertained. Not tonight. She was itching to draw the line, even if it offended the woman who held the kind of power that could freeze Bloom & Grace’s rise in a single word.

She had come dressed like armor for a reason.

And no mask, no matter how glamorous, was going to fool her again.

She offered the same practiced smile. "That’s very kind," she replied smoothly.

Then, she glanced around the room and said, "But really, look at all of you, this room is full of beautiful women tonight. I was only in charge of the ambiance. The glow you brought in yourselves."

A soft murmur of laughter and lifted glasses followed.

Aveline continued, "But I do hope everything is to your comfort," she added. "If the lighting needs adjusting or the courses are delayed, please let me know. We’re still on schedule."

That was the reminder that Aveline wasn’t a guest. She was the architect of this atmosphere.

The women nodded, pleased, returning to their conversations with renewed curiosity about Aveline.

Seraphina noted how smoothly Aveline took her hand away, and her smile never quite reached her eyes.

Seraphina wasn’t sure if she should be impressed or wary.

Before she could respond, a subtle movement at the entrance caught her attention. She had been waiting for that arrival.

A woman in midnight blue walked in elegantly. Seraphina tilted her head just slightly. ’This just got interesting.’