Every where in the city was already glowing with soft amber lights by the time Vincent’s sleek car pulled out from the salon. The hum of the engine blended with the faint rhythm of jazz playing through the speakers. The ride was smooth and quiet at first, filled with the low, familiar sound of tires gliding along the wet asphalt after a brief drizzle.

I sat quietly beside him, my hands folded neatly over the clutch resting on my lap. My heart fluttered in an uneasy rhythm, torn between curiosity and nervousness. The long green gown I wore brushed gently against my ankles, and the faint scent of roses from my hair filled the small space between us.

I turned slightly to look at Vincent. He was focused on the road — face calm, jawline firm, and eyes sharp as usual. The dim golden light from the dashboard carved out the angles of his face perfectly, making him look unreal for a moment.

“Are you nervous?” he asked suddenly, without taking his eyes off the road.

I glanced at him quickly. “No. Why would I be?”

A faint smirk tugged at his lips. “You’ve been quiet for the past ten minutes. That’s unusual.”

I rolled my eyes slightly, trying not to smile. “I’m just… thinking.”

“About what?”

“About how much I hate wearing heels,” I muttered under my breath.

He chuckled softly, the sound low and deep. “You’ll survive tonight.”

“Easy for you to say,” I replied, adjusting the hem of my dress. “You’re not the one walking around in five-inch heels, trying not to break your neck.”

Vincent glanced sideways, his eyes softening just slightly. “You’ll be fine. You look perfect.”

I froze for half a second. “What did you just say?”

He turned his gaze back to the road, pretending as though he hadn’t said anything. “I said we’re almost there.”

I bit back a small smile. Typical Vincent.

When the car finally turned into the driveway of the grand venue, I gasped softly. The entire building shimmered with light — chandeliers hung like frozen stars inside, and outside, cameras flashed everywhere. Reporters and photographers swarmed the red carpet entrance, their shouts and clicks echoing through the air.

“Wait,” I whispered, eyes wide. “Why are there so many reporters?”

Vincent switched off the engine and unbuckled his seatbelt. “Because, Alice,” he said calmly, “this isn’t just any business meeting. It’s a gala for top executives, designers, and investors. Every major name in the country is here.”

My mouth went dry. “And you didn’t think that was something I should know?”

“I did,” he said, getting out of the car. “I just didn’t think it mattered.”

“Didn’t matter?” I hissed under my breath, trying to calm my nerves as I watched flashes go off from behind the tinted windows.

Then the passenger door opened.

Vincent was there, standing tall in his perfectly tailored suit, his hand stretched out toward me. His expression was calm, composed, and effortlessly confident — the kind of look that could make anyone fall silent.

I hesitated for a second before placing my hand in his. His fingers wrapped around mine firmly but gently, and as I tried to step out, I instinctively bent my head, hoping to avoid the dozens of cameras clicking away.

“Don’t do that,” Vincent murmured softly.

“What?” I asked, confused.

He leaned closer, his voice low but commanding. “Keep your head up, Alice. Walk with pride. You have nothing to hide.”

For a moment, I just stared at him. His eyes were steady — not mocking, not cold, but reassuring. I nodded faintly.

“Alright,” I whispered.

And so I lifted my chin, letting the evening lights spill across my face as we walked together down the red carpet. Flashes went off in rapid succession, the air buzzing with murmurs and awe.

“Who’s that with CEO Vincent?”

“She’s stunning!”

“I think that’s the new executive designer from KNT Corporation.”

“Oh my God, they look like a couple straight out of a magazine!”

The whispers followed us like a wave. Vincent walked beside me, tall and confident, every movement sharp and measured. I matched his pace as best as I could, pretending I wasn’t shaking inside.

Inside, the grand ballroom was breathtaking. Crystal chandeliers hung high, reflecting light in every direction. Gentle music played in the background, and elegantly dressed men and women mingled over champagne and laughter.

Everywhere I turned, there were famous faces — CEOs, fashion icons, actors, business moguls. My mind spun just trying to keep up with it all.

And then… I saw Lillian.

She looked stunning in a fitted black gown that shimmered with every step she took. Her hair was curled into perfect waves, her makeup flawless, her lips a deep scarlet. But what caught my attention most wasn’t her beauty — it was the smugness written all over her face.

She glanced at me once, then at Vincent, and that small smirk curved her lips.

Vincent, as usual, didn’t seem to notice. He was already surrounded by a group of CEOs, discussing numbers and contracts as if the flashing lights didn’t exist.

I excused myself politely after a few minutes. “I’ll go get a drink,” I said softly.

He only nodded. “Don’t wander too far.”

I smiled faintly. “I’m not a child.”

I walked to the bar area, grateful for the brief escape. I ordered a glass of sparkling water and leaned lightly against the counter, taking a deep breath. For a few moments, everything felt calm.

That was until I heard laughter — sharp and familiar.

I turned slightly and saw **Lillian**, walking toward me with a small group of her friends. Their dresses glittered like diamonds, their perfumes clouding the air. They surrounded me in a semi-circle, smiles painted perfectly but eyes dripping with venom.

“Oh look,” one of them said sweetly, “it’s the famous executive designer everyone’s been talking about.”

“Ah yes,” another chimed in mockingly. “The one who supposedly designed that stunning Jade Rose Necklace. Impressive for someone who—” she leaned closer, her smile twisting “—slept her way to the top.”

I froze, gripping my glass a little tighter.

Lillian stood behind them, pretending to look shocked. “Oh, come on, girls,” she said, feigning innocence. “Don’t say that kind of thing. I mean, Alice is beautiful, yes, but I’m sure she wouldn’t sell her body for success. And besides, Brother Vincent doesn’t look like someone who would take advantage of such… opportunities.”

The way she said it — that fake sweet tone — made my blood boil. Her friends snickered quietly, clearly enjoying themselves.

“ Of course CEO Vincent,can see clearly who a scheming woman is,he only has eyes for our Lili” One of the girls praised.

I turned around slowly, meeting their eyes one by one. “Are you done?”

The woman nearest to me blinked, caught off guard. “What did you say?”

“I said,” I repeated, setting my glass down gently, “are you done talking nonsense? Because if you’re not, I can stand here all night while you embarrass yourselves.”

They gasped quietly, not expecting me to fight back.

I stepped closer, my voice calm but firm. “You don’t have to like me. But at least have the decency not to lie about me. If you think insulting me makes you relevant, I’m sorry to disappoint you — it doesn’t.”

Lillian’s eyes narrowed, but she stayed silent.

Her friend, however, looked furious. “How dare you talk to us like that—”

Before I could react, the woman grabbed her drink and poured it all over me.

The liquid splashed across my face and dress, cold and sticky, ruining the delicate fabric instantly. Gasps erupted around us. The room fell into uneasy silence as people turned to look.

Lillian’s hand flew to her mouth in feigned shock, but the faint gleam of satisfaction in her eyes gave her away.

“Oh my God,” one of the women said loudly, pretending to be horrified. “She must have provoked her.”

“Serves her right,” another whispered. “I heard she really did sleep her way into that position.”

I stood still, dripping, my dress ruined, my makeup smeared. My fingers trembled, not from shame — but from anger. Deep, simmering anger.

The woman who poured the drink sneered. “Now what can you do, huh, bitch? You slept your way up — now are you waiting for your sugar daddy to come rescue you?”

The words echoed, followed by cruel laughter.

I stared at her quietly for a moment — and then I picked up my own glass, calm as ever, and splashed the contents straight onto her face.

The sound of gasps filled the air again. She stood frozen, her perfect hair now wet, her makeup running.

I placed the empty glass down on the table with a soft clink and met her eyes coldly. “That’s what I can do,” I said evenly. “And next time you try something that stupid again, I won’t be this polite.”

Everyone stared in stunned silence. Even Lillian’s fake smile faltered for a moment.

I turned slightly, not sparing her a glance. “And you,” I added, “should really learn to control the kind of friends you keep. They reflect on you more than you realize.”

Before anyone could respond, a sudden murmur rippled through the crowd.

“CEO Vincent is here!”

I turned — and there he was, walking toward us. His expression was unreadable at first, but when his gaze landed on me — drenched, furious, standing tall amidst the mess — something shifted in his eyes. A mix of shock, regret… and pride.

He remembered. I could tell. That incident from before — when he hadn’t believed me, when I was falsely accused of misconduct — it still haunted him. And now, watching me defend myself, he didn’t look angry. He looked proud.

Without saying a word, Vincent took off his coat and walked over. He draped it gently around my shoulders, shielding me from every stare in the room. The faint warmth of the fabric pressed against my skin, his scent surrounding me again.

The same women who had been laughing moments ago now looked pale.

“We… we’re sorry, CEO,” one of them stammered, bowing quickly. “Our hands slipped.”

Vincent’s eyes turned cold, sharp as ice. “Your hands slipped? I see.” His tone was calm, dangerously calm. “Next time, control them before they ruin your career.”

The woman’s face went white.

Lillian, sensing danger, quickly stepped forward, laughing nervously. “Oh, Brother Vincent, please don’t be angry. My friends didn’t know she was here. It was all just a misunderstanding.”

Vincent didn’t even blink. His gaze flicked briefly to her, expression blank. Lillian faltered, her words dying halfway.

“I suggest you keep your friends on a leash,” he said quietly, his voice low enough for only her to hear.

Her smile stiffened. “Of course, Brother Vincent,” she said, forcing a chuckle as she gently tugged her humiliated friends away.

The moment they disappeared, the tension finally eased — but my heart was still pounding. I could feel every stare burning into my back.

I turned to Vincent and shrugged off his coat, placing it back into his arms. “I don’t need this,” I said quietly.

“Alice—”

“Don’t,” I cut him off, shaking my head. “Just… don’t.”

And before he could say another word, I turned and walked away. The murmurs behind me faded into the background. I didn’t care. My only goal was to get out of there, away from those eyes, those whispers.

Outside, the cool night air hit my face, washing away the suffocating scent of perfume and champagne. I flagged down the first taxi I saw.

As I slid into the back seat, I caught one last glimpse of Vincent standing by the entrance, his coat still in his hands, his expression unreadable.

The driver turned slightly. “Where to, miss?”

“Homeland Street ,” I said softly, leaning back against the seat.

The car pulled away from the glittering lights and flashing cameras, disappearing into the quiet of the city — taking me far from everything that had just happened.