His One True Love

Chapter 5---Five Minutes

At eight o'clock in the evening, Yvonne Perry, after glamming up Wendy Moore, arrived at the glittering banquet hall, where elegance and perfume filled the air.

Outside the venue, a row of luxury limited-edition supercars stood in perfect alignment. The guests moving through the hall were all high-society—CEOs, directors, or renowned heiresses. Except, of course, for Wendy Moore, Gaiara's most infamous fallen heiress.

Even though time had passed, that didn't mean people had erased the past so easily.

Yvonne pointed to a tall, upright figure in the distance and whispered, "That's Chase Fields. Are you really going to talk to him now? But Wendy, I'd advise you to think twice."

The man stood bathed in opulence, surrounded by women who were bold, dazzling, and polished.

Wendy took a deep breath, softly curved her lips, picked up a glass of champagne, and stepped forward in her heels—only for Yvonne to yank her back. "You're just going to walk over like that? Do you have any idea you're walking into a warzone? Look at those flashy floozies around him—none of them are holding back—up, up!" She puffed her chest and tugged Wendy's gown neckline down, revealing a tempting yet tasteful cleavage.

Wendy's ears turned red—she hated this kind of exposure.

Yvonne gave her a thumbs-up. "Trust me, girls with cleavage get noticed."

Gathering courage, Wendy flicked her hair with delicate fingers and glided forward.

As Wendy approached Chase Fields, heads turned—eyes filled with suspicion, envy, and shock.

"That girl looks familiar."

"I've seen her. Wait—I remember! She's the daughter of the Moore Corporation that went under three years ago!"

"Oh... The Moores' collapse was brutal. Her father, George Moore, jumped from a building. They say his brains and blood were everywhere!"

"I heard her stepmother and stepsister kicked her out—left with nothing!"

"She's been gone for years—how dare she show up here? Doesn't she know a fallen phoenix is worth less than a chicken?"

The noisy whispers only made Wendy stand taller.

Yes, she was Wendy Moore. Yes, she had fallen. But none of that would stop her from securing Chase Fields tonight.

Under the dazzling crystal chandelier, the man turned with a glass of champagne. His cold, sharp gaze locked onto the woman approaching.

"Mr. Fields, hello. I'm Wendy Moore."

Wendy extended her hand politely, but under a sea of gawking eyes, Chase merely glanced at her pale palm, sipped his champagne, and made no move to shake it.

She didn't flinch or blush. Calmly, she continued, "Mr. Fields, I heard you're acquiring the land on Indigo Street. My father's villa is on that road. Could you please reconsider..."

Before she could finish, Chase had already slipped a hand into his pocket and turned away indifferently.

Wendy panicked. "Mr. Fields, I know you're busy—could you give me just five minutes?"

The shimmering light highlighted his cold, sharp profile. He glanced sideways. "Why should I give you five minutes?"

All eyes waited for her to fail.

Her heart pounded, but her face stayed calm. She curved her bright red lips, stepped in front of him, boldly wrapped her slender arms around his neck, and whispered in his ear, her breath warm, her tone perfectly suggestive: "If you're willing, Mr. Fields, we could have the entire night."

Wendy despised such tricks, but tonight she had no choice. As she did it, she scorned herself—yet played her final card.

Chase turned slightly, his dark eyes sharp on her faintly flushed face. "Miss Moore, we've met before, haven't we?"

Given the situation, maybe three years ago, she really had staged a fender-bender with his car?

Wendy frowned slightly. The hand around his neck was brushed away.

She refused to give up, hurrying after him. Chase deliberately paused—she bumped straight into his broad back.

On high heels, she barely stayed upright.

"Mr. Fields, that villa means everything to me. Please..."

Chase turned. He saw the redness in her eyes, the helplessness in her gaze. With restrained patience, he stopped before her, his polished black handmade shoes planted firmly. He reached out his long fingers and adjusted the strap of her dress, pulled down on purpose. His voice was flat: "Young lady, if you're not ready to sell yourself, at least keep your dignity."

No warmth. No pity. Only bone-deep coldness seeped into her bones.

She stared at his retreating back, frozen under the lights, mocked and pointed at.

"I told you—he'd never look at her!"

"Exactly! Last month he turned down actress Everett Monroe. Why would he care about a penniless fallen heiress?"

Yvonne, who had been foraging through the crowd, sensed trouble and rushed over, wrapping Wendy in her arms and leading her out fast.

Pounding her chest, Yvonne declared, "Ignore them. You approached Chase Fields to save your family's villa, right? Don't worry—this is on me!"

Wendy forced a smile. "Guo Guo, I'm fine. I'm not hurt by his humiliation. I'm just afraid I can't stop Fields Group's demolition in a week."

Yvonne nudged her. "Even things set in stone can c***k. What if Chase Fields just decides not to demolish your house?"

"Let's not talk about it. By the way, you mentioned a well-paying job—what company?"

Yvonne winked playfully. "The art and design department of Fields Group."