"Ten thousand dollars cannot be bought with an apology, Miss."
Louis Xander jerked his arm away from the trembling young waitress. The red sauce from the *boeuf bourguignon* soaked into the vicuña wool fibers of his suit, forming an unsightly dark stain. His eyes narrowed, radiating the aura of a predator ready to strike.
"Sir, Louis. I am so sorry! It was an accident!" The waitress nearly sobbed, the white napkin in her hand shaking violently.
"Move!" Louis hissed. "Look at what you've done to my clothes!"
Louis's face flushed a deep crimson. His jaw set like carved granite. He stood tall, allowing the stain to become the center of attention for the guests who began to whisper around circular table number seven.
Czarina Aurelia turned. She set her champagne glass down with a sharp clink on the mahogany table. "Good heavens! My apologies, sir. That was my fault, not her."
She waved her hand, instructing the waitress to get away from the reach of Louis's overflowing temper. Her gaze fixed on Louis, holding a spark that an ordinary person could not decipher.
Louis stared at her with dangerous, dark eyes. "Do you think 'it was an accident' is enough to replace a ten thousand dollar suit?"
Czarina took a long breath. She did not back down an inch. Her shoulders remained square, challenging the man's dominance. Her voice was calm, yet it cut through the noise of the room like a sharp scalpel.
"Send the bill to me. I will pay double if that is what you need to be quiet. But let me ask you, is money more valuable to you than the dignity of a servant just trying to make a living?"
Her tone was soft, yet sharp enough to make Louis feel exposed before the tightening crowd. Several socialites behind them began to cover their mouths with fans, shocked to hear someone dare to rebuke Louis Xander so openly.
Click! Click! Click!
The camera shutters rattled quickly like a burst of automatic gunfire. The camera flashes immortalized the rage on Louis's face and the composure on Czarina's. The entertainment journalists had just secured their headline for tomorrow morning.
"Next time, Miss. Aurelia. Watch where you are going." Louis's voice was as cold as polar ice.
"Next time, Mr. Xander. Try to smile when you are angry. It will make you look less intimidating."
Czarina walked away with measured, graceful steps. She left Louis standing frozen. His face burned not from the alcohol, but from an ego that had just been bruised in public.
The commotion caught Lorenzo Moretti's attention from across the room. From behind a crystal glass of whiskey, he observed the scene with a thin, mysterious smile. He seemed to understand something that everyone else in the hall had missed.
Chrysan moved closer. She leaned in, whispering directly into Lorenzo's ear. "Do you know that woman, dear?"
"Not yet, Chrysan," Lorenzo replied without shifting his gaze from Czarina's receding back. "But I will. There is something different about her."
---
THE AWARDS GALA.
Spotlights swept across the massive stage, piercing the darkness of the hall with blinding white light. One by one, the most influential figures in the city were called to the stage. The host, sporting a thick British accent, kept the atmosphere lively with light banter.
"Now, for the Executive of the Year award, Louis Xander!"
Louis strode onto the stage with a firm, confident step. Thunderous applause filled the hall. Camera flashes flooded his face again as he accepted a gold trophy shaped like a hand holding a globe. He flashed a smile at the audience, but the friendliness never reached his eyes.
"Success is not a matter of luck," Louis said into the microphone. His voice echoed powerfully in every corner of the room. "Success is the ability to remain calm when everyone around you is losing their mind."
The audience applauded again. Some showed genuine admiration. Others hid their fear behind polite smiles. Louis descended from the stage without glancing at anyone.
"Next. Entrepreneur of the Year, Lorenzo Moretti!"
Lorenzo rose with an effortless elegance. He gave Chrysan a brief peck on the cheek before heading toward the stage. His demeanor was relaxed yet perfectly polished, typical of a man accustomed to controlling a situation without needing to shout.
"Thank you," Lorenzo said. His smile was charming, captivating nearly every pair of eyes in the room. "Life is not about how fast we climb to the top. It is about how strongly we stand when we fall."
As he spoke, his eyes found Fiamma in the crowd. He gave a very subtle, small nod. Only the two of them understood the meaning behind the gesture.