The standoff between them attracted more attention from onlookers.From the crowd, a woman in a golden gown gasped.“Isn’t that Victor Winslow?” she whispered to her companion, voice rising with excitement.Another man, eyes wide, chimed in. “The rising billionaire? I heard his uncle’s a top army official!”The buzz grew and it seemed to feed Victor’s ego even more Victor’s chest swelled. He pivoted dramatically toward the growing audience as soon as he realized he had had enough crowd attention.“I was just trying to park,” he announced, projecting his voice like a stage actor, “when this man—” he jabbed a jeweled finger toward Adrian—“cut across me and scratched my brand-new Ferrari. I bought it two days ago!”Gasps flared like sparks through the onlookers.All of them turned to Adrian, their eyes filled with judgment.Did this man have no respect?How would a Sedan be dragging a parking space with a Ferrari?A tall executive in a silver tie muttered loudly enough for all to hear,

Victor nodded, scowling. “Apparently.” Isabelle laughed scornfully. “Unbelievable,” she said, her eyes raking Adrian up and down with contempt. “Just because you’re mingling with people way above your class, you think you’re one of the elites?” Her eyes narrowed in anger. “Move that stupid car of yours,” she snapped, her voice ringing across the marble lot, “before I call a bulldozer to crush it.” The crowd murmured in shock as the tension thickened. One of the valets, a young man in a crisp navy vest hurried and bowed slightly as he reached the circle of onlookers. “Excuse me, sir,” he said carefully, eyes flicking from Victor to Adrian. “Mr. Winslow, we’ll need you to move your vehicle. Vice-President Julia sent word—this VIP slot is reserved for a black sedan.” For a heartbeat, the courtyard froze. Did they just hear him right? The VIP space was reserved for this man? That was the funniest thing anyone could ever hear. The crowd, which was silent for a minu

"Better back down and stop this foolish display," Isabelle said gawking at him. Adrian calmly slipped a palm into his suit pocket. Adrian had an almost calm expression, as if his car was not at stake. Everyone became silent... The confidence of his face.... Was he really about to bring out a VIP card? He drew out his wallet. He flicked it open with one thumb. He brought out a golden card with the Rhein Crest. “RHEIN GROUP — VIP AUTHORIZATION,” the embossed letters read. The temperature in the lot dropped by a thousand degrees. The entire crowd, which was eager to see him humiliate himself, froze. Isabelle’s laughter died in her throat and Victor’s smugness evaporated. “That is...” Victor began, voice fraying, “That’s impossible.” Isabelle’s fingers dug into the leather of her purse until her knuckles blanched. How. did her ex-husband get a VIP card? The same husband he had discarded like trash because he was useless. Her eyes were like two stunned coi

Before anyone could blink, she reached him and wrapped him in a graceful embrace, the silver of her gown catching the firelight like starlight. “I didn’t know you’d be here,” she said, eyes bright with surprise and something more. Adrian’s composure never wavered. “Yeah,” he said evenly, a faint smile ghosting his lips. “Got invited.” Sophia tilted her head toward the raging Ferrari, her eyes reflecting the dancing blaze. “What happened?” she asked, her tone curious but calm. Adrian followed her gaze, then met her eyes again. “Nothing really,” he said, voice low and measured. “Just… some people who were bothering me.” The courtyard fell into a stunned, shimmering silence. The fire still raged, but no one looked at it anymore. Every gaze clung to the woman in silver who stood with her arm around Adrian. Sophia Aldridge. The Beauty CEO. The untouchable goddess of the continent. Men who had moments ago jeered at Adrian now stared, pupils dark with awe and des

Everyone had the same question on their mind. Victor jabbed a trembling finger toward the roped-off seats. “That section is for the executives of Rhein Group. Executives,” he spat. “You don’t belong there.” Adrian’s hand rested lightly on the back of the VVIP chair as he turned to Victor. “Why don’t you mind your own business, Victor?” Victor let out a sharp laugh. “Oh, that’s rich,” he sneered, swaggering a step closer. “Because an ant thinks it can flap its little wings, it starts believing it’s an eagle?” The crowd stirred up in laughter. One of the patriarchs from a middle-class family said. “Look around, boy,” he said, voice dripping disdain. “Everyone in this hall knows the rule." None of us is qualified to sit there. None.” A sleek woman in a pearl gown added, her tone like crushed ice, “Even the Aldridge family wouldn’t dare touch those seats. What makes you so different?” The crowd murmured in agreement. Isabelle’s lips parted, but one flick of