CHAPTER 43 – The invitation
R I N A
Arden City glittered tonight.
The Invitation
It was hand-delivered an elegant ivory envelope embossed with a gold sigil.
Ms. Rina Hale,
You are cordially invited to the Glass Orchid Pavilion for an evening celebrating innovation and artistry.
–Gideon Vale.
My breath caught.
Gideon wasn't just a patron of the arts he was the patron of the arts in Arden City. A man whose philanthropy kept galleries open, whose quiet investments made dreams happen.
He'd been the one to convince me to relocate to Arden. The one who said, "Your work doesn't just deserve to be seen it deserves to set the standard."
This was my moment to stand among the people who could open doors for me.
I accepted immediately.
The Glass Orchid Pavilion was the kind of place that didn't just host parties it rewrote what parties were supposed to be. Crystal chandeliers hung like frozen constellations from the high, vaulted ceiling, catching the light and scattering it in golden prisms across polished marble floors. Waiters floated past like ghosts in black-and-white uniforms, carrying trays of champagne and canapés so delicate they looked like art.
I shouldn't have been nervous.
I wasn't exactly new to elegance I'd been raised in it, steeped in it, until it had become second nature. But this was different. This wasn't my family's circle. This wasn't Yelena's curated socialite crowd.
This was Arden.
And Arden was its own kind of jungle.
Gideon Vale's invitation had come with an almost ceremonial weight, as though he'd thrown open the gates of the city and given me a chance to stake my claim. This wasn't just an event this was the event, the one that could cement my boutique's name among the city's most discerning buyers.
For the first hour, I let myself enjoy it.
I mingled. I smiled. I let Gideon introduce me to the kind of people who made decisions that could change my career overnight gallery owners, fashion investors, boutique hotel directors who wanted "signature scents" to represent their brands. The air buzzed with money and ambition, and for a while, I matched its energy, my confidence almost believable.
And then the air shifted.
It wasn't dramatic no grand announcement, no blast of trumpets but the change was impossible to miss. Conversations softened, glasses were set down, postures straightened. Even the music seemed to hush.
Someone important had arrived.
And I didn't have to turn to know who.
A slow, unwelcome chill crept over me as my gaze followed the ripple through the crowd.
And then I saw him.
Lucian Dreven.
He didn't just walk into the room he owned it.
He was dressed in black, perfectly cut, the kind of suit that looked simple until you realized it wasn't. He moved with an ease that wasn't casual so much as controlled, as if every step was calculated. He didn't smile. He didn't nod. He didn't need to.
The crowd adjusted around him instinctively, like metal filings shifting toward a magnet. People stopped mid-sentence, some moved aside without looking, some straightened like they'd been caught misbehaving.
It was infuriating and mesmerizing.
I felt, rather than saw, Liora freeze beside me.
"That's him?" she whispered.
I didn't answer. I couldn't.
I was too busy trying to breathe.
The Weight of the Name
The whispers started almost immediately:
"Lucian Dreven…"
"I didn't think he'd come this year…"
"He's even more striking in person."
A group of heiresses near the bar straightened like sunflowers leaning toward light.
"Do you think he'll stay long?" one of them whispered, nearly giddy.
Another shook her head knowingly. "He never stays long. But when he does show up, it means something."
I hated that they were right.
Because Lucian didn't belong here not really. He avoided social functions like the plague. And yet, here he was, a storm contained in an expensive suit, commanding the room without saying a word.
I hated how much I noticed him.
The way his hair caught the light.
The cut of his jaw.
The absolute, unshakeable authority in every movement.
And then I saw Silas tall, sharp-eyed, scanning the room with that military precision of his trailing just a step behind.
Of course he was here.
Of course they were both here.
I forced myself to look away, to focus on anything else the way the champagne bubbles clung to the rim of my glass, the soft glow of the chandeliers but my gaze kept finding him again.
He stopped to speak with a man twice his age, and I couldn't hear a single word they exchanged, but the man nodded like he'd been handed a commandment.
And it hit me Liora had been right.
This wasn't just a man.
This wasn't just wealth or power.
This was the person Arden City bent around.
Lucian freaking Dreven.
The sound of a piano rose over the low hum of conversation, smooth and liquid, drawing every ear toward the stage.
Liora had taken her place at the glossy black grand piano near the center of the room, her fingers gliding over the keys with effortless grace. She'd come so far from the girl who used to play in our school chapel for applause that barely filled a room.
Now she played for Arden's elite.
And they listened.
I saw Lucian pause just for a second and glance toward the piano. He didn't smile, didn't nod, but there was a faint flicker of acknowledgment in his eyes before he moved on, deeper into the crowd.
Liora's music swelled, and for a moment, the entire room seemed to soften around her.
Even me.
But when I glanced toward the main entrance again, my heart jolted.
Lucian was leaving.
Just like that.
He didn't stay for more than half an hour, didn't speak to anyone longer than necessary, didn't so much as glance my way at least not that I noticed.
And yet somehow, his presence had shifted the entire night.
The moment he walked out, conversations started to rise again, louder now, almost relieved.
But the damage was done.
He'd been here.
And I couldn't pretend he hadn't.
When Liora finished her set, she returned to my side, her face glowing from the performance.
"You saw him, didn't you?" she said softly.
I nodded.
"Well," she breathed, sipping her champagne, "now you know. People call him the god of this city for a reason. Look around you think your stepfamily could pay someone like that to touch you, let alone… what happened?"
Her words hit like a slap, hot and stinging.
I didn't reply.
Because the truth was I didn't know what I believed anymore.
All I knew was that the sight of him had unsettled me in a way I wasn't ready to admit.
And as I left the pavilion later that night, I caught my reflection in one of the crystal doors my face pale, my hands clenched and realized one thing for certain.
This wasn't over.
Not by a long shot.