Chapter 658 – Failed
The bubbles tickled his throat, light and sweet, and for a mont, he really believed this was his stage. The way the lights glimred above them, the way Mira smiled like she’d already let him in, it all felt like he’d finally crossed the barrier. That tonight would seal his na alongside the elite, carved into whispered legends with a golden grin.
He had no idea the floor was already starting to lt beneath his feet.
A soft chi rang through the air, subtle, but purposeful. The background music faded, and the lights above dimd into a soft shimr as the spotlight lit the main stage.
The host stepped forward.
An old money socialite draped in tailored velvet and years of non-transferable connections. His smile was permanently polite, the kind that ca from surviving five political scandals and three bankruptcies with his status intact.
"Ladies and gentlen," he called out, voice amplified by runes but still warm, "thank you for joining us tonight at the Moonlight Gala. As always, we gather not just to celebrate opulence and wine, but to raise support for innovation and healing in our realm."
A polite round of applause followed.
Vincent clapped once, like he knew what was happening. Mira just sipped her drink with casual elegance.
The host continued, "And now, as a special treat... we have one of the city’s most radiant icons... soone whose na needs no introduction. Mira Xianlong, everyone."
More applause. Louder this ti.
Mira smiled, calm as a dragon eyeing gold. She handed Vincent her glass and stepped forward with liquid grace, her gown catching the light like the ocean in moonlight.
Vincent started to follow, unsure. The host hadn’t invited him...
But Mira turned her head, smiled slightly over her shoulder, and gestured. Just enough for the crowd to see.
Vincent’s chest puffed with a rush of pride. Yeah. He was Lux now. Mystery billionaire. Power in skin. He walked up beside her, heart racing, palms slightly clammy.
He wasn’t used to this. Not the spotlight. Not being introduced in front of a room full of caras and investors and legends.
But he kept whispering to himself. ’I’m Lux now. Not Vincent. I am Lux Vaelthorn.’
Mira took the mic. "Thank you," she said, her voice smooth and firm. "It’s always an honor to be here. And tonight, I want to do sothing a little... different."
The crowd quieted.
"I’d like to introduce soone many of you have heard whispers about. A mysterious na that’s been circling our markets, our etings, and, occasionally..." her smile sharpened, "our events."
A ripple of intrigued laughter passed through the audience.
Vincent straightened.
Mira turned to him. "I thought... why not let him speak for himself?" She nodded to the staff, and one stepped forward, handing Vincent a microphone.
His fingers closed around it slowly.
’Okay. You can do this. You’re Lux. You’re smart. Just stay cool.’
He turned toward the crowd, raised the mic to his lips, and said in his smoothest voice, "Good evening."
A few murmurs. Soone clapped. The room was attentive.
"My na is Lux Vaelthorn," he said confidently. "I’m new to this city, but... not new to business. I’ve always believed in forging paths without needing to walk loudly. But lately..." he smiled like a guilty king, "it seems walking quietly only makes people more curious."
A polite chuckle spread through the audience. He exhaled, relief.
Mira clapped once beside him, smiling.
"Where are you from, exactly?" she asked, turning her head slightly, but speaking into her mic.
Vincent blinked. "Pardon?"
"Your ho," she repeated. "Where’s your main estate located?"
"I—uh," Vincent smiled, smooth, buying ti, "I have several. One in Altvale Hills. Another in..."
She tilted her head. "Which one’s your favorite?"
"Altvale," he said quickly.
"That’s interesting," she replied calmly, turning toward the audience. "Because I happen to own the estate next to the Altvale Hills district. And there’s no one registered by that na."
So heads turned.
Vincent cleared his throat. "It’s... new. Under developnt."
"Of course," Mira said. "What about your portfolio? What sectors do you focus on?"
"Tech. Trade. Luxury imports." He smiled confidently. "I diversify."
"Ah. And your estimated net worth?"
Vincent faltered.
Just slightly.
"Enough to be here."
Mira smirked. "But no exact number?"
"I prefer discretion."
"How admirable," she said, facing the crowd again. "What about your first acquisition in the city? I’m sure everyone here would love to know where our new powerhouse began."
Vincent opened his mouth...
Then closed it.
His stomach dropped.
Sowhere in the crowd, soone whispered.
Mira’s smile sharpened.
"One more question," she said sweetly, "and I promise we’ll toast to our mysterious Mr. Vaelthorn. Why have there been so many sightings of you in various lounges, events, and spas with different won? At... unusual hours?"
Vincent’s eyes flicked to the crowd.
Faces stared.
Murmurs bubbled.
Shit.
He realized too late... she wasn’t introducing him.
She was interrogating him.
He started to step back, but Mira’s bodyguards shifted subtly at the base of the stage. Close enough now. Blocking both stairs.
His pulse kicked up hard.
But no. He was Lux. He could flip this. He could still flip this.
Vincent lifted his chin, forced a smirk, and turned toward Mira. "Jealous, are we?"
Mira laughed.
Not a sweet laugh.
A slow, wicked, victorious laugh that echoed through the sound system.
She stepped closer.
"You’re not the real Lux Vaelthorn."
The words landed like a thunderclap.
Gasps. Sharp inhales. Soone dropped their glass.
Vincent opened his mouth to protest, but Mira was already reaching.
Her fingers moved down with the casual ease of soone very familiar.
And grabbed the front of his pants.
Right where the carefully crafted, buckle-padded fake bulge had been so proudly placed.
She squeezed.
Fabric shifted under her touch.
Soft. Empty.
Just cloth.
No heat. No presence. Nothing.
She tilted her head, eyes full of scorn, and raised her voice louder.
"I even know this thing is fake."
The room exploded.
Half with laughter. The other half with stunned disbelief. Phones raised. Caras flashed.
Vincent panicked, clutching the mic like a life vest.
"That’s not—this isn’t—"
But then.
A new voice entered the stage.
Low.
Amused.
Sharp enough to cut glass.
"Here I am, trying to get my revenge," the voice drawled, "yet you’re faster than ."
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