Chapter 563
“Alright, alright!” Beatrice snatched the invitations, her wariness dissolving into a greedy gleam. She clutched the papers like they were her passport to wealth. “Zaylee, you really do have a way with people! Let’s go, hurry!” She waved for the other two most prominent parents to follow her.
Relief washed over Zaylee, loosening the knot in her chest. Thankfully, she hadn’t been exposed. She smoothed her rumpled dress, lifting her chin as if that alone could restore her polished, upper-class veneer.
Her confidence tonight came not only from Sean’s arrangements but also from knowing the influential Morgans and Owens wouldn’t be at the event. With them absent, no one could expose her bluff. All she had to do was ensure the parents bought the shops, and Connie’s crowd would remain none the wiser. Thanks to her three invitations, Beatrice and her companions passed the doors without issue.
However, they soon found themselves seated at the very edge, in a corner with a poor view, far from the direction of the main stage.
“Zaylee,” Beatrice whispered sharply, “You’re supposed to be Mr. Morgan’s girlfriend. Why are we sitting in the cheap seats? Even if I stood up to speak, nobody would see me.”
Zaylee’s patience snapped like a frayed thread. Curling her hand into a fist, she shot Beatrice a withering glare. “Say one more word, and you can forget about ever getting a shop in Nexus Future.”
A man a few seats over tried to cut through the tension. “Come on, Zaylee swore we’d get those shops. So what if the seats aren’t perfect? It’s just a formality anyway.”
But the corner they’d been shoved into was anything but ideal. From here, the main stage looked like a postage stamp, the expressions of the people on it swallowed by distance. Conversations up front were nothing but a murmur in the air — until the crowd suddenly rose as one, their attention pulled toward a single figure making her entrance. A woman in a champagne gown glided toward the best seat in the house, a small army of bodyguards flanking her.
The overhead lights followed her every step like loyal admirers, spilling gold across the sleek fabric that hugged her frame. She settled into the center seat with the ease of someone born to claim it, leaning in toward a distinguished, silver-haired man beside her. Their quiet exchange felt private, yet carried the kind of presence that made everyone watch.
“That’s the Owen family’s daughter,” whispered the woman in the sequined dress, her voice steeped in awe and a hint of envy. “The way she carries herself… it’s unreal. Too bad she’s so far away, I can’t see her clearly.”
Zaylee’s reaction was instant, her voice slicing through the air. “What did you say? The Owen family’s daughter?”
The woman jerked back, startled. “Yes… the Owen daughter. Why are you reacting like that?”
Zaylee had just learned from Sean — Rylie was the Owen daughter. Not just another rich woman. Not simply a member of high society. She was the treasured heart of the most powerful family in the city.
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