CHAPTER 177: GALA (6)

The orchestra’s melody swirled through the air like golden silk. The sound was delicate and commanding all at once.

Gray and Selina moved in sync at the center of it.

At first, Gray’s motions were guided by instinct that wasn’t his own. However, after a few seconds, it suddenly felt like second nature.

The marble beneath their feet reflected the soft chandeliers above them. It caught the gentle sweep of her dress and the crisp line of his suit as they moved across the ballroom.

People were watching them in awe. It was so much he could feel it in full stares. They were lingering and curious.

Some were surprised.

Some were intrigued.

Others whisper quietly behind each other.

Selina’s lips curved slightly, sensing the shift in attention.

"You’re catching eyes," she murmured without looking away from him.

"Am I doing something wrong?" Gray asked under his breath.

"On the contrary," she said, voice low and smooth. "You’re doing everything right."

A few pairs around them slowed down a bit to stare at them too. It was just a little but it was obvious how they were subtly adjusting their paths to give Gray and Selina space.

It wasn’t a gesture of courtesy, but it was respect. No one wanted to get in the way of what was clearly becoming the center of the floor.

From the corner of the ballroom, a woman in a red gown leaned toward a man in a navy suit.

"Who’s the guy with Selina Everett?" she whispered.

"I don’t know," the man replied, narrowing his eyes. "But if he’s dancing with her, then he’s not just anyone."

Gray tried to keep his face composed, but inwardly he could feel the tension uncoiling in the ballroom.

The nerves, the pressure, all of it slipped away with every turn. His body moved gracefully now, dipping and spinning with Selina like they’d rehearsed this routine hundreds of times.

Every movement flowed effortlessly into the next.

Selina twirled gently at one point, and when she returned to his hold, her expression shifted to calm, but unmistakably proud.

"You know," she said softly, "If you keep this up, people are going to start making offers."

"Offers?" Gray echoed, slightly breathless.

"For partnerships. Investments. Invitations." Her eyes flicked toward a trio of sharply dressed investors watching them from across the floor.

"The dance isn’t just a dance, Gray. It’s your introduction."

A woman with silver hair near the Everett table leaned into her assistant, murmuring,

"That’s the new player. Keep an eye on him. See what he’s attached to."

Across the floor, someone else sent a quiet message to their contact:

"Find out who Selina Everett was dancing with. Anyone who moves like that and doesn’t stumble under pressure is worth knowing.

Selina leaned in just a little. "How do you feel?"

Gray hesitated, then gave a quiet laugh.

"Like I’m... not faking it anymore."

She smiled.

"Good. Because tonight, perception is power."

They continued to dance, circling around the center like they were a slow-moving sun.

The music carried on—swelling, flowing, then tapering into soft refrains as Gray and

The young man in the sharp black suit... the one moving in tandem with Selina Everett... he wasn’t part of the usual circle. That much was clear.

And yet, here he was—graceful, poised, magnetic in the way someone had to be when the night suddenly decided to revolve around them.

From the far end of the ballroom, a man in his forties tilted his chin toward them while sipping champagne. His partner, an elegantly dressed woman with a pearl necklace, lowered her glass with a soft clink.

"That’s not Everett’s usual type," she said under her breath.

"No," the man agreed, "but she’s not dancing with a type. She’s dancing with someone she picked."

One of the catering staff, passing by with a silver tray of hors d’oeuvres, stole a quick glance toward the floor. He didn’t recognize the guest either, but even he could tell that whoever that man was, he wasn’t just lucky to be there.

Gray felt the shift in the air without needing to look. His shoulders were straighter now, not because he was trying to impress, but because something in his chest had eased.

He didn’t feel like an imposter anymore.

And Selina noticed.

She adjusted her hand slightly in his, fingers curling just a touch tighter, her posture proud without being stiff.

"They’re making the connections," she said quietly, her tone almost amused.

"What kind of connections?" Gray asked.

"The kind that make people curious about your name. Your business. Your background. The way you carry yourself." She tilted her head with a sly glance.

"The kind that make them wonder if you’ve always been here, and they were just too slow to notice."

He wasn’t sure how to respond to that. He was still learning what it meant to be seen like this.

Not pitied. Not dismissed. Not politely ignored like the new guy with nothing to offer.

But seen as someone worth knowing.

A man in a gold-trimmed tux took a small step forward from his circle of executives, watching Gray with narrowed eyes. He leaned over to whisper something to one of his associates.

Near the center buffet table, a woman from an old banking family raised her eyebrows when she overheard someone mention Selina’s name in the same breath as the phrase: "early-stage equity."

The conversation threads began to tie themselves together across the floor.

By now, it wasn’t just admiration that followed Gray’s steps. It was calculation.

Some were wondering if he was the Everett family’s newest business venture. Others speculated he might be a protégé. A strategic alliance. A future co-founder of something big.

In any case—he was no longer a mystery for long.

Across the ballroom, a low murmur passed between a pair of older gentlemen. One of them tapped at a contact on his phone. The other gave a short nod before pulling out his own.

A name would surface soon enough. In this crowd, all it took was a few connections and a good assistant.

Selina leaned closer again, this time with the kind of intimacy that suggested they were sharing something deeper than just rhythm.

"You’re being watched by half the boardrooms in this place."

Gray exhaled, steadying his steps. "I can feel it."

"Nervous?"

"Not really," he admitted. "Just... trying to stay in the moment."

She smiled at that. "Good. That’s where the power is."

From the upper level of the ballroom balcony, a few junior analysts and interns stood shoulder-to-shoulder, whispering behind the balustrade. One of them tugged at his collar.

"I thought Everett only backed old-money types," he whispered.

"She does. That’s why this is so interesting."

Gray didn’t know what they were saying, but he could feel the weight of the moment. A few songs had passed, yet they were still in the center, drawing orbiting glances from across the hall.

When the music shifted again into a slower, more luxurious tempo, Selina didn’t break stride. She only adjusted to the rhythm, just like before.

But now, it felt different.

Not just a performance. Not just an entry.

This was a claim.

It was saying—this man wasn’t here by accident.

By now, conversations were changing tone. People weren’t just trying to guess who he was. They were preparing how to approach.

Some rehearsed opening lines. Others mentally sorted through which assets or projects might align with a name they hadn’t even learned yet. A few began planning who to send over first—whether to let their assistant make the introduction or to do it themselves.

At the Everett mansion, Conrad Everett stood tall, arms folded as he surveyed the scene. His usual cool expression twitched slightly with what might have been approval.

One of the family’s aides leaned in and said, "Sir, the opinion about Gray are strong. Everyone’s talking about him."

Conrad gave a subtle nod. "Let them talk. That’s what we wanted."

At his side, another Everett relative chuckled, watching Gray and Selina at the center of the huge tv scree nodded.

"Well," he said, "if this was his first real gala, he’s already set the bar too high."

Gray didn’t know it yet, but a quiet decision had already formed in the minds of some of the room’s most influential guests: they would remember his face. They would find out what he was building. And they would ask how soon they could be involved.

The next few turns of the dance were gentler, more fluid. Selina’s expression was soft but focused.

"You’ve done well tonight," she said, her voice low so only he could hear it. "Better than most seasoned names I’ve brought into this party."

He looked at her, eyes briefly scanning the glow of the chandeliers above, the polished floor, the velvet-lined walls, and the crowds standing just outside their orbit.

"I didn’t do it alone."

She smiled faintly, but her gaze didn’t soften. "That’s the point. You understood the moment. And now they’re the ones trying to catch up to you."

He didn’t say anything to that. There wasn’t a need to.

The final notes of the current piece began to trail off, and as the orchestra let the last chord linger in the air, Selina guided them toward a gentle stop.