False Victory
False Victory
Victoria was pacing the living room when Vincent walked through the penthouse door, her phone was pressed to her ear, her voice sharp with irritation.
“I don’t care what the supplier says, Jenny. I need those projections by tomorrow morning or…” She looked up and saw Vincent standing in the doorway, and something in his expression made her stop mid–sentence. “I’ll call you back.”
She ended the call, her eyes fixed on Vincent’s face. “Well?”
Vincent reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the two cream–colored envelopes.
Victoria held her breath as her eyes locked on it. She crossed the room in three quick steps, snatching the envelopes from his hands. Her fingers trembled slightly as she opened one, pulling out the formal invitation with its platinum ticket and security hologram.
“Oh my god,” she whispered. “Oh my god, you actually got them.”
Then she threw her arms around Vincent’s neck, kissing him hard. “You’re amazing. You’re incredible. How did you do it?”
Vincent forced a smile, his arms coming around her waist even as cold dread still sat heavy in his stomach. “I told you I had connections. I said I’d take care of it, didn’t I?”
Victoria pulled back, her eyes shining with excitement and relief. “I know, but I was so worried. After everything that’s happened, I thought…” She shook her head, looking down at the invitation again. “This changes everything. If I can just get Madame Duchamp’s attention at the gala, if I can make her see the potential in Cole Enterprises…”
“You will,” Vincent said, though the words felt hollow in his mouth. “You’ll be brilliant.”
“Victoria?” Mrs. Stone’s voice called from the hallway. “Was that Vincent I heard?”
Victoria’s mother appeared in the living room doorway, her expression brightening when she saw them together. The last traces of her injuries had finally faded completely, leaving her looking years younger.
“Mother, look!” Victoria held up the invitations like trophies. “Vincent got us tickets to Madame Duchamp’s gala!”
Mrs. Stone’s eyes went wide, then immediately sharp with interest. “The Madame Duchamp gala? The exclusive one that everyone talks about?”
“The very same,” Victoria said, practically glowing. “Can you believe it? We’re actually going!”
Mrs. Stone crossed the room quickly, plucking one of the invitations from Victoria’s hand to examine it more closely. Her fingers traced the embossed lettering, the platinum ticket, the security hologram that caught the light.
“This is real,” she breathed. “Vincent, how on earth did you manage this?”
Vincent’s smile felt like it might crack his face. “I have my ways.‘
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False Victory
+25 Bonus
Mrs. Stone looked at him with new appreciation, the kind of respect she’d never shown him before. “Well. Color me impressed.” She turned back to Victoria. “Darling, we need to start planning immediately. This is Saturday… that’s only five days away. We need to get you the perfect dress, the perfect jewelry, the perfect everything.”
“I was thinking of Maison Lumière,” Victoria said immediately. “Their evening collection is supposed to be spectacular this season.”
Mrs. Stone nodded enthusiastically. “Absolutely. If that Sophia woman can have Maison Delacroix delivering to her door, you certainly deserve Maison Lumière. In fact, you deserve better than Maison Delacroix.” Her voice took on a competitive edge. “We’ll show everyone at that gala exactly what real class looks like.”
Vincent felt sweat beginning to bead on his forehead. “Maison Lumière is… they’re quite expensive.”
“So?” Mrs. Stone turned to look at him, one eyebrow raised. “Surely that’s not a problem? Not for someone with connections powerful enough to secure invitations to Madame Duchamp’s gala.”
“Of course not,” Vincent said quickly, though his chest was tightening. “I just meant we should be thoughtful about the selection.”
“Thoughtful,” Mrs. Stone repeated, her tone making it clear what she thought of that word. “Victoria is attending the most important event of the year. She needs to look absolutely perfect. No expense spared.”
Victoria was already pulling out her phone. “I’ll call Maison Lumière right now and set up an appointment. They might even be able to send someone here, like they did for…” She trailed off, her expression souring. “Like they do for their important clients.”
Vincent felt lightheaded. The numbers were adding up in his head…Maison Lumière’s evening gowns started at one hundred thousand yuan. Jewelry from Fifth Avenue could easily run into the hundreds of thousands.
“I need some air,” Vincent said abruptly.
Victoria glanced at him, concerned. “Are you okay? You look pale.”
“I’m fine. Just… need a moment.” Vincent turned and walked toward the balcony, his legs unsteady.
Behind him, he could hear Mrs. Stone and Victoria already deep in discussion about dress styles and color palettes and which jewelry would make the most impact.
Vincent stepped onto the balcony and gripped the railing, breathing hard.
He’d agreed to a devil’s bargain for tickets. And now he was expected to finance a shopping spree that would cost more than most people made in a year.
Money he didn’t have. Money that would dig him even deeper into the hole he was already drowning in.
Vincent pulled out his phone with shaking hands and opened his banking app. God help me he muttered.
Across the city, Sophia sat at her dining table surrounded by papers, her laptop open, a half–eaten bowl of noodles forgotten beside her.
Adrian sat across from her, watching with barely concealed amusement as she frantically typed, crossed out
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False Victory
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notes, typed again, then groaned and dropped her head onto the table.
“It’s hopeless,” Sophia’s muffled voice came from where her face was pressed against her notebook.” Completely hopeless.”
“It’s not hopeless,” Adrian said calmly, taking a sip of his tea.
Sophia lifted her head just enough to glare at him. “Easy for you to say. You’re not the one trying to impress the most mysterious, powerful, intimidating businessman in the entire country.
Adrian’s lips curved slightly. “Mr. X isn’t that intimidating.”
“Yes he is!” Sophia sat up, grabbing her bowl of noodles and shoveling food into her mouth with the desperation of someone who’d forgotten to eat for six hours. “He owns Meridian Industries. Do you know what that means? He basically controls half the economy. Companies live or die based on his decisions. And I’m supposed to write a proposal that convinces him Stellar Dynamics is worth his time?”
She swallowed, then immediately stuffed more noodles in her mouth. “It’s like… like trying to impress God. Except God probably has better things to do than read my mediocre business proposal.”
Adrian watched her eat with an expression somewhere between fondness and amusement. “How’s the proposal coming along?”
Sophia swallowed hard, nearly choking. She grabbed her water glass and drank half of it, then set it down and dramatically sniffed.
“Well,” she began, her voice taking on a comically tragic tone, “I’m working on it. But Adrian!” She leaned forward, her eyes wide and pleading. “You have to help me! I’m so frustrated and scared. I want to impress Mr. X so much. This partnership could change everything for Stellar Dynamics.”
She paused, then tilted her head, studying Adrian’s face with sudden suspicion. “Wait. Do you know him?”
Adrian raised one eyebrow. “Know who?”
“Mr. X. The mysterious owner of Meridian Industries.” Sophia’s eyes narrowed. “You got my company’s IPO reinstated out of nowhere. You seem to know everyone who matters in this city. You own a penthouse that costs more than some people make in a lifetime. Maybe you know him?”
Adrian shook his head, a playful smile touching his lips. “What do you mean? How would I know someone so impressive?”
Sophia stared at him for a long moment, clearly trying to decide if he was telling the truth. Then she shrugged and returned to her noodles.
“You’re right. That would be crazy.” She twirled noodles around her chopsticks. “Mr. X probably doesn’t even talk to normal people. He’s probably surrounded by bodyguards and assistants twenty–four–seven. Living in some fortress somewhere, making billion–dollar decisions while eating gold–plated food.”
“I don’t think anyone eats gold–plated food,” Adrian said, his smile widening.
“You know what I mean.” Sophia pointed her chopsticks at him. “The point is, he’s completely unreachable. Which makes this proposal even more terrifying because I have one shot…one…to catch his attention, and if I mess it up…‘
