The air in the penthouse felt different that evening. After the long day of meetings and sudden interruptions, Louis stood on the balcony, hands in his pockets, his gaze lost in the city lights below. The faint rustle of a silk robe behind him alerted him.“Thinking again?” Vanessa’s voice purred as she stepped beside him, her bare shoulder brushing lightly against his arm.Louis smirked. “Can’t help it. Today’s been... chaotic.”Vanessa turned toward him, her fingers lightly tracing his wrist. “But you handled it like a king,” she whispered. “That’s why I wanted you to myself tonight.”He turned to her, catching the glint in her eyes.“I even wore your favorite color,” she added with a teasing smile, her hand sliding up to his collar. “Are you really going to make me beg for your attention, Mr. Moreau?”Louis chuckled softly, wrapping an arm around her waist. “You don’t have to beg. You just have to ask.”She leaned clo

The moon hung low over the estate, veiled behind the soft haze of clouds. Inside the study, the air smelled of old parchment, aged wood, and Louis Moreau’s familiar cologne—a subtle blend of cedar, citrus, and something darker, like secrets locked behind iron doors.Vanessa stood by the fireplace, her back to him, one hand grazing the edge of the mantelpiece. “You really think you can keep everyone together like this?” she asked, her voice low.Louis approached slowly, a glass of red wine in one hand. “I don’t think,” he said calmly, “I know.”She turned to face him, the fire casting golden highlights in her hair. Her eyes were no longer sharp but softened with something that looked like surrender—or maybe desire. When he stepped closer and offered the glass, her fingers brushed his, lingering longer than necessary."You’re dangerous, Louis," she whispered.“And yet,” he murmured back, “you’re still here.”Vanessa sipped the wine, gaze locked with his. Then she set the glass down and

System Alert:Margot attempts to decrease your confidence using “Master Gaslight.”Counter using Composure: PASS.Effect: No psychological damage taken.Across the room, Vanessa, Elise, and Maia had also arrived—independently invited.Each woman took in the scene, eyes narrowing. They knew a power play when they saw one.“You’re bold,” Elise said quietly, taking her seat. “Bringing all of us here to see this.”“I didn’t,” Louis replied. “She did.”Margot clapped her hands twice. Instantly, a waiter wheeled in a multi-course tasting menu.“Tonight’s challenge, Louis,” she said with a theatrical grin, “you will not cook. You will be judged. And each of your women,” she gestured at the trio, “will vote—honestly—for who made the better dish. Mine… or yours.”Louis tilted his head. “So we’re back to games.”“No, sweetheart,” Margot whispered. “We’re back to war.”System Update:Special Challenge Activated: “Battle of the Palates.”Outcome will determine system visibility. If Margot wins, s

The evening air inside the grand penthouse shimmered with anticipation.Vanessa stood by the open balcony, her satin robe catching the breeze as she waited. Her eyes—dark with desire and calculation—watched Louis from across the room. The man was calm, collected, and maddeningly composed as he plated the final course for the evening: seared scallops over saffron risotto, garnished with edible gold flakes."You really won't cook unless a woman asks you to, huh?" she murmured, approaching with a slow, deliberate sway.Louis glanced at her without missing a beat. "Cooking is intimacy," he replied softly. "It's not a favor. It's a gift—granted when someone dares to ask genuinely."Vanessa’s fingers brushed his arm. “Then consider this a genuine request.”He looked into her eyes. "So noted."Just then, the penthouse intercom buzzed. A voice—sweet and familiar—sounded through the speakers.“Hi, um… sorry for barging in, but is Louis home?”Vanessa’s expression shifted.Louis blinked slowly,

Scarlett stood at the threshold, her silhouette outlined by the golden hallway light. Her eyes, glossy and filled with regret, met Louis’s calm, unreadable stare.“I shouldn’t have left like that,” she whispered, stepping into the apartment that still smelled faintly of saffron and rosemary—his signature scents. “I was scared... of what I was starting to feel.”Louis didn’t say anything right away. He was at the stove, tossing vegetables in a hot pan, the flames dancing around the skillet like they understood the tension in the air. He finally looked over his shoulder, eyes steady.“You left,” he said, voice low but not cold. “But you came back. That’s something.”Scarlett walked closer, hesitating near the kitchen island. “Do you still cook for me?”He smirked softly, adding a pinch of sea salt to the pan. “Only if you ask nicely.”There was a beat of silence. Scarlett took a breath. “Please.”That was all he needed. Louis plated the dish—grilled sea bass with lemon butter and herbed