Chapter 5
839 Words
Gregory's POV
The ballroom glittered with decorations and chandeliers that dropped with crystal and wealth. It was the kind of event where champagne flowed like water and the smile of everyone present hid an agenda. Gregory stood at the edge of the ballroom, came in hand, eyes scanning the polished and bright faces around.
He'd spent a lifetime building an empire, navigating men who smiled with knives hidden behind them. Tonight was no different, beautiful women and men covering up with philanthropy but wrapped in silk and suit of deceit.
Gregory's thoughts spiralled around his conversation with Damian.
An heir. A secured bloodline.
His son thought he could defy him, thought he could ignore his legacy for the sake of stubborn pride. Gregory's jaw tightened at the thought of Damian's icy resistance. The boy has everything but sense, which makes Gregory wonder where he got his senselessness from. He doesn't understand that love is weakness and only lineage survives, and one doesn't need love to keep the lineage.
As he moved through the crowd, nodding at investors and rivals alike, his eyes caught someone unexpected, and he was instantly blown away by her simplicity and beauty.
She wasn't dressed like the others, dripping in diamonds or parading their wealth. She wore a simple gown, elegant but modest, her hair packed up in a neat ponytail. She stood at the volunteer table, arranging auction items with careful precision. No one paid her much attention, but Gregory did.
Her movements were slow, graceful. And her smile, genuine.
“Now,that is rare”. He thought,his lips pressing into a thin line.
Something about her interested him.
He studied her posture, her calmness, the way she carried herself with dignity even though she clearly didn't belong among the wealthy elites. And for the first time, Gregory felt satisfied seeing someone different from the elites in the same space.
Yes, he thought. She isn't like the others.
Gregory adjusted his cufflinks, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He saw the flicker of unease on her face when their eyes met. She wasn't used to being stared at, wasn't used to being observed, wasn't used to being considered. That alone made her interesting.
She wasn't chasing wealth. She wasn't draped in vanity. She carried herself with humility, and yet he could see the visible traits of strength in the way she straightened her shoulders after faltering beneath his stare.
Gregory tapped his cane lightly with the ring on his finger. Yes, he thought with certainty. This one has the right kind of purity. The right kind of aura and character. “She could be the one”.
Gregory turned away with the ghost of a smile tugging at his lips. And, he felt a flicker of something he hadn't felt in a long time: approval.
Gregory lingered near the marble staircase, watching the crowd swirl around him. His presence,even in retirement, carried weight. People approached him with bright smiles, shook his hand, exchanged pleasantries, then drifted off to chase others with deeper pockets.
But he wasn't even paying much attention to them, his attention was elsewhere.
The beautiful young woman he had noticed earlier was now a few feet away from him. Balancing a tray of glasses with practiced ease. She offered one to a guest close by, bowed her head politely, then continued her quiet path. There was no performance, no pretense. Just humility and dignity.
On impulse, Gregory stepped forward for a glass.
“Thank you”, he said as she offered him a glass of wine. Her eyes flicked up to him,polite but steady.
“Youre welcome, sir”. Her voice was soft but firm, carrying a sweetness that's different from the desperate ones he was used to. She gave him a small nod, then moved on with her duty, as though she had no idea who he was, she just or didn't care.
Gregory watched her disappear into the crowd, a crease forming between his brows. The women in the hall were all polished and painted like ornaments. But this one? She was different. She was unshaken, unbothered and unpretentious.
He lifted the glass slowly, taking a sip. For the first time in years, he felt certain of something.
The girl carried the kind of humility that money couldn't afford. Money couldn't buy this.
He set the glass down, eyes narrowing with quiet satisfaction. His son would resist. Damian had made it his life's mission to wall himself off feelings. But Gregory knew bloodlines, and he knew women. And he could tell when someone was different. And she was different, not the kind of woman he was used to.
And this Evelyn?
Yes, he had paid so much attention to her, that he had heard her whisper the name to another volunteer. Evelyn had potential.
Gregory straightened his back, the faintest smirk crossing his lips. “Damian may not see it yet”, he murmured softly, “but I do”.
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