Champagne flutes trembled in gloved hands as Xiaodie's court coalesced - a murmuration of silk and surgical enhancements. Their laughter tinkled like chandelier crystals shaken by distant explosions, eyes sharpened to scalpels behind feathered fans.
"Darling Luna!" Xiaodie's embrace reeked of tuberose and desperation, diamond nails sinking into satin sleeves. "However did you slip Thorn Manor's chains to bless our humble celebration?"
The flock stilled. A debutante's pearl necklace snapped, rolling across marble like misplaced tears.
Luna's smile cut through perfume clouds. "I came to admire the decor." Her gloved finger tapped an ice sculpture's cheek - Diana mid-hunt, features already weeping in the ballroom's fevered heat. "Though art seldom survives this crowd's appetite."
Liyun materialized like a wraith, sable stole bristling. "Mind your provincial tongue, girl. Last time you stained these carpets with counterfeit tears over knockoff Dior."
The rebuke hung suspended until Luna's chuckle shattered it. "How careless of me to confuse your charity gala's dress code with Halloween." Her train swept crushed pearls toward the terrace. "Shall we compare authenticity marks, Auntie?"
Xavier's entrance parted the sea of tuxedos. Midnight wool clung to old-money shoulders, but his cologne betrayed him - bargain bin musk masking boarding school insecurities. Xiaodie's talons claimed his arm, garnet nails bloodying his sleeve's pickstitching.
"Darling, Luna's come to bless our union!" Her stage whisper carried to crystal corbels. "Do play nice with the... less fortunate."
Xavier's gaze snagged on Luna's throat - bare of jewels but armored in defiance. "Where's your phantom groom? Did we finally frighten him off?"
Ice melted down Luna's spine. "Funny - I was about to warn Xiaodie." She leaned close enough to taste his fear-sour breath. "Don't sign your name in permanent ink today, Xavier. The registry's quite... flammable."
The quartet's Vivaldi screeched discordant. Xiaodie's crown slipped, stabbing pearls into her shellacked updo. "You rotting jilted bitch! This is my—"
"Enough!" Richard's cane cracked marble. "You'll cease this circus or—"
"Or what?" Luna's glove ripped away, revealing Thorn Manor's crest burned into her wrist. "You've no currency left to trade, Father. Unless..." Her smile bloomed poisonous. "...you'd like to revisit the ledgers from Su Pharma's clinical trials?"
The crowd's hunger crested as Xavier knelt - not on velvet cushion, but shattered champagne flute shards. His proposal bouquet trembled (hydrangeas, Xiaodie's allergenic nemesis).
"Don't." Luna's whisper slithered through string quartet tremolos.
Xavier froze, ring clattering. For one suspended heartbeat, ten years of pretense hung balanced on a diamond's edge.
Then Luna's laughter detonated. "Oh, do relax! Can't a stepsister tease?" She crushed a hydrangea underheel, blue pollen staining Xiaodie's train. "Do carry on - I've last season's leftovers to incinerate."
As the crowd's outrage crested, a black Maybach Phantom swallowed the porte-cochère. Through tinted glass, Caleb's silhouette watched Luna's performance, cigar smoke curling like a satisfied cat's tail.
The ballroom's chandeliers flickered as Xavier's proposal curdled into farce. Luna's laughter still hung in the air like smoke when his phone buzzed—a death knell masked as a notification. The medical report glowed on his screen, its clinical language a grenade pin pulled.
"Virginity intact," he read aloud, the words acid on his tongue. The crowd's gasp harmonized with Xiaodie's choked sob as her diamond crown skewered her updo.
Xavier moved like a marionette with severed strings, dragging Luna up the spiral staircase. Her satin gloves snagged on the wrought iron railing, unraveling thread by thread.
The rooftop greenhouse trapped midsummer's heat—orchids sweating perfume, glass panes warping their reflections. Xavier slammed Luna against the fogged glass, medical report crumpled in his fist.
"Lies!" Spittle dotted the diagnosis. "I saw you that night—legs wrapped around that vagrant like—"
Luna's slap echoed through citrus trees. "You saw survival." Her glove split at the seams. "Bought your father's lies like the obedient lapdog you are."
Xavier's laughter cracked. "And Thorn? That decrepit mansion's ghost? Did he teach you to spread legs for power?"
Her knee found his groin with practiced precision. As he crumpled among potted ferns, she produced a second report—sealed with the Thorn family's waxen crest. "Your father's generous bribes to the medical board. Quite the paper trail."
Outside, storm clouds mirrored Xiaodie's smeared mascara. She clawed at the greenhouse door, satin train snagging on terracotta shards. "He's mine!" Her shriek startled nesting doves.
Xavier pressed the medical report to the glass, ink bleeding in the humidity. "Take it back." Desperation reeked like cheap cologne. "We'll disappear—Switzerland, Argentina—"
Luna's hairpin became a blade against his jugular. "You testified I pushed Grandfather." Her whisper frosted the glass. "Why?"
Tears diluted his lies. "Father said… said you'd ruin us. That night in the cave—"
"—was me saving a life while you counted inheritance percentages." She stepped over him, orchids crunching beneath stilettos. "Marry your hollow victory. But know this—"
The greenhouse door groaned open. Xiaodie's reflection warped in rain-streaked glass—a gilded cagebird with broken wings.
"—every time you touch her," Luna smiled, sweet as cyanide, "you'll remember this report. Your legacy built on my virtue."
The storm broke as Luna descended. Richard's cane cracked against marble—a feeble attempt to halt her exit.
"You'll regret—"
"Regret?" She tossed Xiaodie's diamond ring into the champagne fountain. "Ask your son about the twins he buried in Macau."
The Maybach's engine purred like a satisfied beast. Through tinted windows, Luna watched Xavier's silhouette fragment across greenhouse panes—a hundred broken suitors weeping in the rain.
Thorn Manor's ancestral stones groaned beneath Hua Rong's imported leather pumps. Her perfume invaded the foyer—black orchid and ambition—as Caleb guided her past family portraits, their oil-painted eyes tracking the intrusion.
Luna stood frozen on the staircase, silk robe gaping where sleep had loosened its ties. Hua's vermillion nails curled around Caleb's forearm, a mockery of intimacy.
"Darling Luna!" Hua's smile glinted with cosmetically whitened teeth. "How… domestic you look."
Caleb's gaze raked Luna's bare legs, lingering on the scar above her knee—a childhood souvenir from outrunning village dogs. "Mrs. Thorn," he drawled, "meet our new CFO. She'll be… consulting on the Tokyo merger."
The lie curdled between them. Luna descended, each step a controlled detonation. "Consulting requires overnight luggage?" She nodded at the Louis Vuitton trunk hemorrhaging lace negligees in the doorway.
Hua's laugh tinkled like broken chandelier crystals. "Business and pleasure often intertwine, don't they, Caleb?"
The air thickened with unspent lightning. Luna's thumbnail found the half-moon scar on her palm—ancient defense against newer wounds.
"Mr. Grayson!" Her voice cracked whip-sharp through the tension. "Prepare the east wing suite. Our guest prefers rooms without mirrors."
The steward hesitated, eyes darting to Caleb.
"Now."
As servants scattered, Hua's mask slipped. "You let this peasant order your staff?"
Caleb lit a cigarette, smoke veiling his smirk. "She is the lady of the house."
Dinner congealed into warfare. Course after course arrived—truffle risotto, bluefin toro, gold-leafed desserts—each dish a battleground. Hua's foot crept up Caleb's calf beneath the table. Luna watched through her peripheral vision, fork tines scoring the tablecloth.
"The merger requires your signature," Hua purred, sliding documents across the table. Her lacquered nail tapped Clause 17—asset forfeiture upon spousal infidelity.
Luna's wineglass froze mid-sip. "Clever girl."
Caleb's ring clinked against crystal. "Something to share, Mrs. Thorn?"
She met his challenge, extracting Xiaodie's diamond ring from her pocket. It hit the merger papers with a condemnatory clink. "Your CFO forgets to mention her offshore accounts."
Hua's champagne flute shattered. "Lies!"
"The Cayman Islands don't lie." Luna unfolded bank statements, lipstick smears staining transaction records. "Though your accountant's mistress might."
Caleb's laughter erupted—dark, delighted, dangerous. "You audited my board member?"
"I audit threats." Luna rose, napkin fluttering to the floor. "Enjoy your dessert. I hear ambition pairs well with arsenic."
The west wing's secret passage exhaled dampness as Luna fled to the observatory. Below, the hedge maze swallowed moonlight whole. Footsteps echoed—Caleb's cologne announced him before his hands pinned hers against the telescope.
"Running again?"
She headbutted his chin. "Teaching civility."
Blood bloomed on his lip. He licked it slowly, eyes feral. "You're wasting talents as a wife."
"And you as a concubine recruiter."
His grip tightened. "Jealousy's an ugly color on you."
"This isn't jealousy." Her knee grazed his groin. "It's pest control."
The collision that followed shattered a Cartier vase. They rolled across Persian rugs, silk tearing, breaths tangling. Hua's scream pierced the chaos as she discovered them—Luna's teeth at Caleb's throat, his hands twisted in her hair.
"You're both animals!" Hua retreated, Louboutins skidding on marble.
Caleb's laughter chased her flight. "She'll resign by dawn."
Luna stilled. "This was a test?"
"An audition." He licked the blood from her split lip. "You passed."
Beyond the stained-glass windows, dawn bled across the gardens. Somewhere between throat bites and stock portfolios, rules had rewritten themselves.