The Grand Ballroom at the St. Regis Dallas was dripping in million-dollar opulence. Crystal chandeliers hung from the soaring ceiling like frozen waterfalls, casting a golden glow over four hundred of Texas’s most elite guests. Champagne flowed from ice sculptures, and the air smelled of white orchids and unpayable debt. Standing near the grand staircase, Victoria Vance smoothed down her crimson silk gown, her eyes flashing with pure rage as she adjusted her posture. Her daughter was about to marry into the powerful Miller dynasty, and nothing was going to ruin this night.

Victoria: Watch where you are stepping, girl! You almost tripped over my train!

Elena: I’m so sorry, ma'am. I was just trying to clear the crystal glasses before the toast.

Victoria: You don't get paid to think or make excuses. You get paid to scrub floors and stay out of sight!

Elena: Yes, Mrs. Vance. It won't happen again.

Victoria: Make sure it doesn't. Someone like you shouldn't even be breathing the same air as us.

Victoria scoffed and turned on her high heel, marching toward the main stage with her chin held high. But before she could take three steps, a firm hand clamped down on the soft fabric of her sleeve, stopping her mid-stride.

Victoria: LET GO OF ME! How dare you lay your filthy hands on my dress!

Elena: Please, Mrs. Vance. Don't make me cause a scene in front of all these people.

Victoria: A scene? You're a low-class nobody! Get your hands off me before I have security throw you onto the street!

Julian: STOP! HEY! What is going on over there?!

Julian Miller, the handsome groom in his custom tuxedo, pushed through the crowd with a cocktail in hand, his face red with annoyance. But as he stormed toward them, Elena slowly raised her right hand into the air, turning her palm outward toward the lights.

Gleaming on her finger was a heavy, custom gold signet ring engraved with an ornate royal coat of arms crest—a unique symbol that only one family on the entire continent had the right to wear.

Julian froze mid-step, his eyes locking onto the gold crest. The color drained from his face instantly, his drink slipping from his fingers and shattering against the marble floor.

Julian: No... no, that's impossible... It can't be you...

Elena: Hello, Julian. Did you really think a fake name and a new city would hide what you stole from my family?