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The announcer’s voice echoes across the ballroom.

Perfect.

I use the interruption as an excuse to leave and head to the bar.

This night is already proving to be far more exhausting than I expected.

“…tonight, we celebrate another remarkable year for Hartho—a company that continues to redefine excellence across multiple industries. From ambitious international developments and strategic acquisitions to groundbreaking hospitality and entertainment projects, Hartho has once again demonstrated what visionary leadership and uncompromising standards can achieve. Their continued investment in innovation, their global workforce, and their long-term partnerships have set a benchmark many aspire to reach.”

Fuck.

Exactly what I needed. Another reason to attract attention.

I remain in the corner near the bar as the presentation continues—new developments, acquisitions, expansion figures, thousands of employees across the world.

Impressive.

But admiration isn’t what fills the room.

It’s envy.

Calculation.

People measuring how close they can get.

Or how much they can take.

“Please join me in congratulating the Thomas and Hardy families,” the announcer says. “Your achievements are an inspiration for this industry, and we look forward to seeing what comes next.”

The room rises in applause as the lights brighten over the room.

I take another sip of whiskey, wondering how to reach my table without getting stopped every five steps.

My gaze drifts to my right, toward it…

Then stops, and everything disappears.

She’s here.

Two tables away.

For a split second, the rest of the ballroom fades into meaningless noise.

My chest tightens so abruptly it almost hurts.

She’s beautiful.

Effortlessly.

Painfully.

The warm lighting catches the curves of her face, the shine of her hair, the quiet smile playing on her lips, and I can’t tear my eyes away.

Then I notice the man sitting beside her.

Not the one from yesterday’s photos.

Someone else.