The Language of Luxury

Famous for wrong reason

THE GRAND HALL

The hall was already filled.

Twenty seats had been arranged in a graceful semicircle, each occupied by a woman whose confidence seemed carefully rehearsed. Crystal chandeliers bathed the room in warm light while soft classical music played in the background.

Every invited guest understood the significance of the evening.

At the front of the hall stood a single chair.

Reserved.

Empty.

"The event should have started by now."

One of the candidates glanced at the antique clock.

"What's taking so long?"

"They're waiting for someone."

"Who?"

"No idea."

"There are only twenty candidates."

Another counted quietly.

"Nineteen are here."

"So one person is missing?"

"Looks like it."

The whispers spread across the room.

"I heard Sharon Chinedu isn't here yet."

"Of course."

"She always likes making an entrance."

"She's probably trying to remind everyone she's the daughter of Chief Odugwu Chinedu."

The girls laughed softly.

At that moment—

A voice echoed from the staircase.

"Discussing me already?"

Every head turned.

Sharon descended with measured confidence.

Every step deliberate.

Every movement elegant.

The black gown embraced her perfectly.

She had imagined this moment countless times.

The admiration.

The envy.

The whispers.

She received all of them.

Exactly as expected.

Some women looked jealous.

Others openly admired her.

A few unconsciously adjusted their own dresses.

Sharon smiled inwardly.

Good.

Let them compare.

She reached the last step and looked toward the front.

Only one reaction mattered.

His.

But...

He wasn't looking at her.

Her smile faded ever so slightly.

"Thiago."

She called calmly.

"We've kept everyone waiting long enough."

The man standing near the front finally answered.

"Join the others."

Sharon frowned.

"I beg your pardon?"

"You're late."

"I'm here now."

"So join the others."

His voice remained emotionless.

A few muffled laughs escaped from the candidates.

Sharon pretended not to hear them.

"Thiago..."

She lowered her voice.

"We can talk after this."

"No."

His eyes never lingered on her.

"Take your seat."

The laughter behind her grew louder.

One candidate couldn't resist.

"Looks like even Sharon has to wait in line."

Another covered her mouth to hide a smile.

Sharon clenched her jaw.

This wasn't how tonight was supposed to begin.

She looked back at Thiago.

Only to realize...

He wasn't looking at her anymore.

His gaze had shifted.

Toward the staircase.

Confused, Sharon turned.

The entire hall had gone silent.

Even the musicians had unconsciously stopped playing.

A figure slowly appeared at the top of the staircase.

The black gown flowed effortlessly with each step.

The uneven layers drifted like controlled smoke.

Silver embroidery caught the light before disappearing into shadow.

She wasn't trying to command attention.

Yet attention surrendered itself willingly.

Every step carried quiet confidence.

Not arrogance.

Not desperation.

Just elegance.

One by one...

Conversations died.

Eyes followed her.

Breaths caught.

No one knew her.

Yet no one could look away.

Sharon stared.

Her expression hardened.

"...Anabelle?"

The same boutique manager?

What was she doing here?

Anabelle, meanwhile, was trying very hard not to trip.

Her heart pounded inside her chest.

She could feel every pair of eyes following her.

"Don't fall."

She reminded herself silently.

"Just keep walking."

She reached the middle of the staircase.

One more step.

Then—

Her heel caught the edge of the stair.

Her balance shifted.

"Oh no..."

She instinctively reached for something.

Before she could hit the ground...

A strong arm caught her by the waist.

Her fall stopped instantly.

For one suspended moment...

Time itself seemed to pause.

Anabelle looked up.

"...You again?"

It was the same annoying man from earlier.

The one who had called her a liar.

The corners of his lips lifted ever so slightly.

"You seem to enjoy appearing where you shouldn't."

Anabelle frowned.

"And you seem to enjoy making conclusions before hearing people out."

Without waiting for another word, she gently removed his hand from her waist and straightened her gown.

"Thank you..."

she muttered politely.

"...but I really don't want to be here."

She took a step back.

Only then did she notice it.

Silence.

Complete silence.

The whispers that had filled the hall moments ago had vanished.

Every candidate...

Every guest...

Every staff member...

Was staring.

Not at her.

At the man standing before her.

Even Sharon had frozen where she stood.

Her eyes remained fixed on the two of them.

Confusion slowly crept across Anabelle's face.

Why is everyone looking at him like that?

Then—

"Thiago..."

Sharon's voice echoed through the silent hall.

"If we're done..."

"...can we begin now?"

Anabelle blinked.

Thiago?

Her eyes slowly returned to the man before her.

The calm expression.

The effortless authority.

The confidence that never once looked forced.

Then it struck her.

Thiago...

Thiago Adebayo.

The owner of this mansion.

The man she had come here to deliver Sharon's dress to.

The same man she had lied to...

Claiming she was there to participate in the bride selection.

Her heartbeat stumbled.

No way...

This is Mr. Thiago Adebayo?

Her fingers unconsciously tightened around the fabric of her gown.

Great.

Just great.

Of all the people I could have lied to...

...it had to be him.

Thiago noticed the slight change in her expression.

He didn't ask why.

He simply watched her for a brief second before withdrawing his hand completely.

His face remained unreadable.

Sharon forced a smile and stepped forward.

"Thiago, everyone's here now."

Without looking at her, he replied calmly,

"Not everyone."

The hall fell silent once again.

The MC stepped onto the stage.

The murmur in the hall gradually died away.

"Ladies."

"Welcome."

"You already know why you're here, so I'll keep this brief."

He gestured toward the three distinguished figures seated before the candidates.

"Today's selection will be conducted by three independent judges."

"The questions will come from them."

"Each answer will be evaluated based on character, judgment, and compatibility."

He paused before continuing.

"At the end of the selection, their evaluations will be presented to Mr. Thiago Adebayo."

"The final decision, however..."

He turned toward Thiago.

"...belongs to Mr. Thiago Adebayo alone."

The room became still.

No one doubted it.

The MC smiled faintly.

"With that said..."

"Let's begin."

The female judge picked up the first file.

"Candidate Number One."

A woman in a deep emerald gown rose from her seat.

She walked to the center of the hall with measured confidence.

"State your name."

"Victoria Lawson."

The judge nodded.

"Miss Lawson..."

"Why do you want to marry Mr. Thiago Adebayo?"

Victoria smiled.

"Because I believe a marriage should unite two people capable of building something greater than themselves."

The retired judge leaned forward.

"If Mr. Thiago Adebayo lost everything tomorrow, what would you do?"

"I would stand beside him while we built it all again."

The leadership consultant made a note.

"What kind of wife do you think a man like him needs?"

"A loyal one."

The female judge closed the file.

"Thank you."

Victoria inclined her head and returned to her seat.

"Candidate Number Two."

The interviews continued.

Each woman answered differently.

Some spoke with confidence.

Some sounded rehearsed.

Some tried too hard to impress.

Others lost their composure halfway through a single question.

Throughout it all...

Thiago never spoke.

He merely watched.

Calm.

Unreadable.

As though every answer was being placed somewhere only he could see.

"Candidate Number Three."

...

"Candidate Number Four."

...

The interviews continued.

Each woman entered with confidence.

Each left with uncertainty.

Some answered with elegance.

Others with carefully memorized words.

The judges never asked the same questions in the same order.

"What does respect mean to you?"

"When should a wife disagree with her husband?"

"Would you choose honesty or peace?"

"What makes a marriage fail?"

Some candidates answered without thinking.

Some requested a moment before responding.

The judges listened more than they spoke.

Pens moved quietly across paper.

No expression revealed whether an answer had impressed them or disappointed them.

At the far end of the hall, Anabelle rested her chin lightly against her hand.

This is going to take forever.

She glanced at the enormous clock hanging above the entrance.

If I survive today, I'm sleeping for two days straight.

Her gaze drifted toward the judges.

Then...

Toward Thiago.

He hadn't spoken once.

Not even a single word.

So that's Mr. Thiago Adebayo...

The man half the women in this room are ready to fight over.

She studied him for only a second before looking away.

I still don't see what's so special.

Meanwhile...

Sharon sat with perfect posture.

Every candidate who returned to her seat brought her one step closer.

She wasn't interested in their answers.

Only in her own performance.

The MC glanced at the next card.

"Candidate Number Fourteen..."

He looked up.

"Miss Sharon Chinedu."

The room instinctively quieted.

Sharon rose gracefully.

She smoothed the side of her gown before walking toward the judges with measured confidence.

Without saying a word...

She stopped before the panel.

The interview everyone had been waiting for was about to begin.