"Soone you know?" Alexandre asked as he casually took a flute of champagne from a passing waiter.
"Does an enemy count as an acquaintance?" Hera replied with a playful glint in her eye. She accepted the champagne from him and raised her glass in a mock toast toward Alice.
Across the room, Alice’s face twisted with fury. The reaction made Hera chuckle—a light, lodic sound that reminded Alexandre of windchis in sumr. He found himself smiling too, amused and oddly chard.
"She looks like she’s about to devour you whole. Want so help dealing with her?" Alexandre offered, his tone relaxed but sincere.
Normally, he paid no mind to catfights—he’d seen too many won squabble over him, desperate to outdo one another just to win his attention. It was sothing he never quite understood. With so many n in the world, why bother fighting over just one?
But his friends once told him that while there may be many n in the world, only a small percentage are truly successful and wealthy. That scarcity makes those n highly sought after by won who aspire to live a life of luxury. With high demand and limited supply, competition becos inevitable.
In such circles, won often feel the need to eliminate their rivals to secure their place. After all, n can be fickle—quick to choose one and just as quick to discard her. To avoid being replaced, many won feel compelled to confront and outshine any potential threat.
In the past, Alexandre never concerned himself with petty rivalries between won—it always felt beneath him. But now, watching Hera, sothing had shifted. He found himself wanting to protect her, to be closer to her.
Most won in his circle, when given even the smallest opportunity, would cling to a man like their lives depended on it—eager to stake their claim and warn other won to back off. But Hera was different.
Despite the favor he’d shown her and the perfect opportunity to get closer, she maintained her distance, carrying herself with poise and restraint. And yet, in front of the other socialites, she radiated confidence and elegance, holding herself like a true aristocrat.
Because of this, Alexandre found himself increasingly drawn to her—like a moth to a fla. His subtle gestures could easily be interpreted as him actively courting Hera, openly showing his interest. It was, perhaps, the first ti Alexandre had ever shown such attention to a woman, and that alone sparked curiosity.
Those around them, especially the won, grew intrigued by Hera—the woman who managed to stir sothing in the famously aloof and stone-hearted Alexandre. So approached her under the guise of civility, raising their glasses in a toast, but their true intentions were to belittle and humiliate her. One such socialite walked over, having noticed the way Alexandre was looking at Hera, clearly seeing her as a threat.
"Alexandre! Hello! Happy 24th birthday!" the woman said with a bright smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. "Uncle couldn’t make it due to his busy schedule, but let his future daughter-in-law raise a toast in his place." Her voice was sweet, but her intentions were clear—she was eager to assert her claim over Alexandre in front of Hera.
This was exactly the kind of behavior that made Alexandre avoid getting close to won. She was notorious for acting like a rabid dog whenever he so much as showed mild interest in soone else. Tonight, she was being civil, but her arrival was a subtle territorial warning to Hera, masked as a polite gesture.
After offering her toast to Alexandre, she quickly turned her gaze toward Hera. "And who is this stunning woman with you?" she asked, her eyes sweeping over Hera from head to toe, one brow arched in poorly concealed judgnt.
Hera remained composed, taking a slow sip of her champagne, unfazed by the scrutiny.
"Where did you pick up soone like her?" the woman added smoothly, her tone laced with condescension—barely veiled implication that Hera was nothing more than a low-class escort.
Alexandre’s expression darkened instantly at the girl’s veiled insult. "Mindy—!"
Before he could raise his voice, Hera gently placed a hand on his arm. The simple touch was light, almost casual, but it sent an unexpected shiver down Alexandre’s spine. His stomach flipped in a way that was both unsettling and intoxicating—an unfamiliar feeling for soone usually so composed.
Hera, however, was only trying to calm him. She didn’t want him to ruin his own birthday over sothing so trivial—this was a situation she could handle on her own. She had no idea the effect her touch had on him, or how much effort it took for him to mask the sudden rush of emotion swirling inside him. Yet, no matter how well he tried to hide it, the dark, possessive glint that flashed through his eyes was unmistakable.
Mindy saw it instantly. Her smug expression faltered, and her brow furrowed as she studied Hera again—but this ti, the mockery was gone. If earlier she had looked at Hera like a cheap novelty, now she examined her like a legitimate threat. Her eyes narrowed, turning sharp and venomous as a flicker of jealousy blood beneath her polished exterior.
"Miss Mindy, is it?" Hera said smoothly. "I’m Hera Ainsley. I happened to cross paths with Mr. Arnault here as a foreign guest in this country. He was simply kind enough to extend his courtesy and introduce us to the local social scene—for the sake of broader business opportunities and networking, of course."
She spoke with poise and a calm, polished smile as she extended a hand in greeting. Mindy, however, ignored the gesture. Unbothered, Hera retracted her hand gracefully, her expression unchanging, as if she hadn’t expected anything different.
After all, a woman who could publicly claim to be an Arnault’s fiancée was almost certainly from a family of equal stature. And from the way Alexandre clearly held no fondness for her, it wasn’t hard to guess—this was a business engagent, likely arranged for power and alliance. In other words, Mindy ca from a house just as powerful as the Arnaults—soone Hera would do well not to underestimate, but also, soone whose insecurities were beginning to show.
"A foreigner, huh? Well, you certainly look the part," Mindy said with a smirk, pausing as her eyes swept over Hera. She had every intention of mocking her—perhaps sothing about her appearance, her figure, or the typical stereotypes about foreigners not asuring up to European standards. But as she studied Hera—her poised expression, elegant figure, and statuesque height—Mindy found herself montarily at a loss.
There was nothing she could easily criticize—at least, not without sounding insecure.
Then, noticing that Alexandre was speaking to Hera in English, a new idea sparked. Switching languages, Mindy turned to French, intending to insult Hera to her face under the assumption that she wouldn’t understand.
Her voice dripped with venom as she addressed the room, loud enough for the surrounding guests to hear and for Hera to feel the shift in energy, even if she didn’t understand the specifics.
"She must’ve co here hunting for a rich husband. Look at her—she screams high-class mistress. And the nerve to aim straight for Alexandre? She really does dream big. ’Business’ and ’networking’? Please. A woman like her doesn’t belong in front of the Arnaults or the Pinaults. Slut."
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