Chapter 4 - The Vanguard Masquerade
The Edenbridge Autumn Masquerade was the social pinnacle of the semester. Hosted at the Sterling family’s sprawling cliffside estate, it was an event where millions of dollars in business deals were struck over teenage champagne flutes.
Serena stood at the top of the sweeping grand staircase of her mansion, wearing a custom Valentino gown of spun silver. A delicate, diamond-encrusted mask covered her eyes. She felt invincible. The gossip blast had done its job. Harper Cole was a social pariah, a verified charity case.
"She won't even show up," Chloe giggled, adjusting her own mask. "Security has strict orders to turn away anyone not on the verified wealth registry."
"Of course she won't," Serena sneered. "Trash knows when to stay in the dumpster."
At 9:00 PM, the grand double doors of the estate swung open.
The string quartet abruptly stopped playing. The low hum of billionaire conversation evaporated into absolute, stunned silence.
Standing in the doorway was Harper Cole.
She wasn't wearing a cheap dress. She was draped in a breathtaking, vintage Alexander McQueen gown—a piece of fashion history that belonged in a museum, made of midnight-blue silk and black feathers. Around her neck rested a flawless, fifty-carat sapphire pendant that caught the light like a captured star. Her mask was simple, elegant black lace.
She looked like royalty stepping into a room of peasants.
Serena’s champagne flute slipped from her fingers, shattering on the marble floor. "How did she get past security?" Serena hissed at Mason.
"I don't know," Mason whispered, staring at Harper with unabashed awe. "But that necklace... Serena, that's the Romanov Sapphire. It was auctioned in Geneva last year for twenty million dollars. There's no way a charity case is wearing that."
Harper glided down the stairs, moving with a predatory grace. The crowd parted for her. She didn't look at the scions or the heiresses; she walked directly toward the center of the ballroom, straight toward Serena.
"Beautiful party, Serena," Harper said, her voice carrying in the dead silent room. "Though the floral arrangements look a bit... budget. Are times that tough for the Sterlings?"
Serena’s face contorted with rage beneath her mask. "You're wearing a fake necklace, Harper. You don't belong here. Guards! Escort this trespasser out!"
May you like
Two massive private security guards stepped forward.
Harper didn't flinch. She reached into her clutch and pulled out a heavy, black metal card, holding it up. "I wouldn't do that. Considering I hold the deed to this property."
