Starlight Heights was overflowing with people. The estate's driveway was packed with luxury cars—Bentleys, Maybachs, and Rolls-Royces lined up like a damn auto show.
Inside, the grand hall buzzed with high society chatter, champagne clinks, and fake laughs.
An eighteen-meter crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling, glimmering like a spiral galaxy. The polished marble floors looked like still water beneath them. Satin banners swayed from the tall walls, catching the breeze from open glass doors leading to a candlelit terrace.
And right in the center of it all, bold and gaudy as hell, a wide red banner stretched across the hall:
[Welcome Home, Mr. Archie Branson. Congratulations on Your Triumphant Return!]
“Congratulations to Mr. Archie Branson on returning home after completing his studies abroad.”
Margaux navigated through the crowd, arm in arm with Archie, looking the perfect host in a dark, intricately patterned gown. The chandelier above them cast a gentle glow that illuminated the matching rings on Archie’s finger—rings from the Queen’s Auction. Rare. Exclusive. Priceless.
And not meant for me.