"I'm not interested in investing in a project where girls parade around on a runway."
Damian's flat reply snapped Crescentia out of her thoughts like a whip.
Her jaw tensed despite herself. She didn't want to be offended, but she was. Those girls weren't parading—they were chasing dreams, fighting for a shot at something bigger. Something beautiful. Something she had once wanted, too.
She bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself from snapping back.
"They're not parading," Lucas said stiffly, his tone sharp with irritation.
He stood tall, but it was obvious the rejection had bruised his ego.
Lucas Evans had come from old money—that was the only reason he'd made it into the Lorenzo matriarch's birthday party. Unlike the other guests, he hadn't earned his name in society. And his parents? They'd cut him off, determined to force their son to sink or swim without dragging their reputation down with him.
This party was his shot—his last-ditch effort to form connections, to bring someone powerful into his dream project.
And Damian had been the one he'd pinned his hopes on.
Unfortunately for Lucas, Damian wasn't the type to fund something just because it sounded romantic or noble. He was a calculated investor. If it didn't promise a return, he wasn't interested. At this point, any unprofitable investment from him would be classified as charity work.
"The girls could become supermodels," Lucas pushed, desperation creeping into his voice. "If they're given the right platform—if they're determined enough—"
"I already told you," Damian cut in coldly, "I'm not interested."
The finality in his voice was like a slammed door. Lucas hesitated, visibly deflated, before muttering something under his breath and walking away with what little pride he had left.
Crescentia watched him leave and felt a pang of guilt.
She could've said something. Could've defended the project—defended the girls who would've killed for a chance at the life Lucas was trying to offer. But she reminded herself it wasn't her place. Not tonight.
Old Lorenzo beckoned her forward, her soft voice rising over the chatter.
"Are you having fun, dear?" Her eyes crinkled into crescent moons with her smile.
"Yes, Grandma," Crescentia said smoothly, lying without hesitation.
The older woman sighed fondly. "Sadly, I can't stay up like you young ones anymore. I'll be heading out now. But you must visit the mansion soon—I'll make you a cup of my special tea."
Her warmth chipped away at the steel wall around Crescentia's heart. It was rare, this kindness. But no matter how much she wanted to visit again, she knew it wouldn't happen. Her deal with Damian was ending tonight. After this party, they'd go back to being strangers.
They shared a brief, heartfelt hug before the woman was led out the back, away from the media's glare at the front entrance.
Crescentia's eyes swept the room and landed on her uncle.
He hadn't said much since his arrival, just observed. And something about the way he watched her made her stomach twist. What was he thinking? Plotting?
"I'm going to the restroom," she said to Damian and slipped away before he could ask questions.
Alone, she checked her phone. 10 p.m.
"Noella should be getting ready for bed by now," she murmured. "I need to leave."
She turned the corner—and crashed into a hard chest.
Crescentia stumbled back and looked up.
Lucian.
She wasn't surprised. He'd been eyeing her the entire night like a snake waiting for the right moment to strike. Damian had shielded her so far, but now that she was alone, Lucian wasted no time.
His glare was venomous. She tried to step aside and walk past him.
But he grabbed her wrist.
"Let go of me—"
He yanked her, shoving her through a nearby door and slamming it shut behind them.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?! I'll scream!" Her voice shook with fury—and fear.
Lucian didn't say anything at first. Just stared at her like she'd committed the ultimate betrayal. His chest rose and fell in ragged waves, and when he finally spoke, spit flew onto her cheek.
"You're with that Damian guy now, aren't you? What did he give you that I couldn't?"
Crescentia blinked, stunned.
Was he serious?
Did he forget he cheated on me with my cousin? she thought.
"What was it?!" he barked. "I was a good boyfriend! I gave you everything! And you turn around and stab me in the back?!"
Before she could react, he slammed her body against the wall with enough force to knock the breath from her lungs. Pain shot through her ribs, but her brain couldn't process it fast enough—too stunned by the sheer violence of it.
Then, without warning, his lips crashed down on hers.
It wasn't a kiss—it was a violation.
Rough, bruising, disgusting.
"Let me go!" she screamed, shoving him back with all the strength she had.
Her eyes burned with tears, but she refused to let them fall.
Her hand flew before she could think—SMACK—a sharp slap across his cheek that echoed in the empty room.
Lucian stumbled back, red-faced and seething.
Crescentia bolted. She tore open the door and stormed out into the hallway, chest heaving, lips trembling.
Lucian followed but stopped short when he realized the hallway was full of people. He couldn't cause a scene. Not here.
'That's enough for one night,' Crescentia thought grimly.
She pulled out her phone and sent a quick text to Damian: "I'm leaving."
She couldn't let him see her like this—bruised, shaken, vulnerable.
So she slipped out the back door and disappeared into the night.
Damian received his text from Crescentia, his eyes narrowing at the words as if they would immediately turn into something else.
His jaw clenched.
"She left?" He muttered, finding it strange since Crescentia had just gone to the restroom a few minutes ago. Speaking of minutes, it'd been a while.
His dark eyes went to the stairs that led to the restrooms and found Lucian walking down with a red handprint on his face. It got the latter a few stares but he ignored it.
Both Lucian and Damian made eye contact, but none of them spoke a word.