"I'm not just jealous of Mr. Shaw's good fortune—I'm envious of his skill as well."
Serena reverted to the formal address, half-serious, half in jest. "After all, as lawyers, if we lack ability, there's no way to earn the client's trust."
Lauren: "Oh? Ambitious, aren't you?"
"Working under you, Lauren, how could I not strive to improve?" Serena replied deftly.
Lauren's laughter deepened. "That mouth of yours—no wonder Bridgeway sees you as one of their most promising young lawyers in recent years."
A well-dressed man came over and called Lauren to join the gathering. She nodded and patted Serena's arm.
"Senior Brother Poole is calling me, I'll head over."
Serena responded softly, remaining where she was to watch Lauren leave.
Lauren and her fellow disciples—all were privileged, almost otherworldly.
Taking advantage of the break, Serena picked a slice of hazelnut mousse cake from the dazzling selection and ate as if no one were around.
She scooped up a bit, put it into her mouth, then glanced toward the terrace.
Beneath the shifting lights and shadows, a man's slender, well-defined hand held a glass of whisky, his presence standing out among the crowd, graceful and at ease—almost ostentatiously so.
The woman at his side had changed—no longer Luna Quinn, but a beauty of unadorned allure.
It seemed Adrian Shaw had been doing well all these years.
Never pausing for anyone or anything, nor was there anything in his life to hold him back.
Especially not her—she had never affected him, not in any real sense.
After all, she and he were never truly of the same world.
A proud, self-assured heir like him, those days he dated her were likely the only stain in his otherwise pristine life.
Whether he remembered her or not, it made no difference.
Adrian Shaw hadn't appeared publicly in the country for years; nearly everyone at the event took this chance to approach him.
With his status and background, he had no patience for flattery. If Lauren hoped to connect with the Shaw Family tonight, there was absolutely no chance…
Her thoughts abruptly stopped.
Serena steadied herself, forced her mind to pause, refusing to speculate further.
She no longer dwelled on what Adrian Shaw might think.
Five years ago, or five years later, she still couldn't see through him.
Gregory Grant passed by with a bottle of red wine, caught sight of her, and headed over.
He asked gently, "Uncle Quinn is in the garden outside. Would you like to join us?"
Serena tilted her head, noticing the Romanée-Conti red wine in his hand.
Gregory was unlike Julian Yates—Julian tended to side with Jasper Grant, standing opposite Adrian Shaw.
Whereas Gregory played both sides, never taking a stance, offending no one.
Serena had come tonight to wish Elder Quinn a happy birthday, so she didn't refuse and walked with Gregory toward the garden.
"Jasper isn't here—you can have some wine, right?" Gregory lifted the bottle suggestively. "This wine isn't that strong."
"Even if he were, it's fine," Serena replied. "But not tonight—I drove, so I can only have juice."
Famous for his thoughtfulness, Gregory didn't insist further after hearing her answer.
The expansive garden was brightly lit and luxurious, with exquisite cutlery and an understated artistic touch, Schubert's notes flowing gently in the night air.
A long table was set neatly in the center of the lawn, adorned with fresh floral arrangements, petals sparkling with dewdrops, dazzling under the lights.
Cameron Quinn sat among old friends, deep in conversation—esteemed names in the field.
Serena and Gregory, not wanting to interrupt their elders, quietly took their seats across from one another.
Skillfully, Gregory uncorked the wine, decanted it, then filled the Burgundy glasses at the table himself.
Although Serena wasn't drinking, he poured a glass for her anyway.
Gregory smiled gently. "Just for the gesture," he explained.
"Meticulous," Serena replied politely, slightly curving her lips for a perfunctory compliment.
As Gregory had just finished pouring, a group of four or five well-bred, outstanding heirs and heiresses entered from the terrace, laughing and enjoying themselves.
Drawn by the sound, Serena instinctively raised her lashes, catching sight of the man walking at the center, surrounded by admirers.
She quickly looked away, swirling her glass nonchalantly, eyes fixed on the wine's subtle ripples inside.
Then she heard Luna Quinn's voice: "Adrian, sit next to me."
The main seat had been reserved for the Shaw heir. Seeing this, Cameron Quinn's face darkened, his tone strict: "Nonsense!"
He stood up to greet their guest, but before he could say anything, Adrian Shaw sat down leisurely.
In that instant, not only did everyone freeze, even Serena felt her blood run cold, fingers going stiff for several seconds.
Because Adrian Shaw had taken the seat immediately to her right.
The person once closest to her now sat beside her—his presence saturating the air, encroaching inch by inch, overwhelming like a tropical cyclone making landfall.
"Why's everyone standing?" Adrian's dark gaze swept the crowd, casually commanding, "Sit."
These elite heirs understood best what 'strict hierarchy' truly meant.
If Adrian refused the main seat, all they could do was comply, rather than continually insisting he take it.
The Shaw Family had always been discreet. Tonight was Elder Quinn's birthday—Young Master Shaw not stealing the spotlight was already out of respect for the Quinn Family.
After all, a seat's just a seat—wherever the most powerful person sits, that is the seat of honor.
Everyone took their places, drinking and chatting, save for Adrian Shaw, who remained aloof.
He seemed an outsider, focused on his phone—typing out messages, indifferent and unbothered by it all.
Always detached, emotionless, ignoring others' attempts to please him.
The butler brought out freshly pressed vegetable juice, placing it with deference at the left front of Adrian's setting.
Serena glanced over, assumed it wasn't for her, and left it untouched.
Soon, Luna Quinn also set a glass of vegetable juice in front of Adrian.
"Adrian, your juice..."
He set his phone aside, wrapped his long fingers around the crystal glass, and turned it slightly.
Luna, scanning the table, suddenly noticed, somewhat puzzled, "Why are there two glasses of vegetable juice?"
From across the table, Gregory spoke up at the right moment: "That's for Serena."
Hearing her name, Serena finally turned her head to look over.
Adrian slid one of the juices over to her. Whether intentionally or not, his fingers lightly brushed against hers.
That small contact felt like a spark in a snowstorm, blazingly hot.
Serena was startled, her fingertips trembling like butterfly wings.
"...Thank you."
Adrian seemed not to notice her discomfort; his gaze lifted lazily beneath half-lidded eyes.
With impeccable grace, he replied, "You're welcome."
Luna, puzzled, looked between the two near-identical glasses of juice.
She glanced around and noted that only these two had such drinks—everyone else had fine wine or tea.
Luna settled her questioning gaze on Serena, asking directly, "You don't drink either? Juice for you too?"