It was almost evening.
The golden light of the setting sun filtered through the windows, casting long shadows across the polished wooden floor. The house felt calm... yet quietly expectant.
Upstairs, Miles stood before the full-length mirror in his room, straightening the collar of his crisp, charcoal black three-piece suit. The jacket hugged his athletic fra with precision—clean lines, sharp lapels, subtle silver thread detailing barely visible under warm lighting. A matte black tie ran sleek down his chest, pinned with a minimal silver clip. Beneath it, a deep ash-grey shirt made his pale skin and sharp jawline stand out even more.
His hair, usually tousled and wild, was styled back—still ssy, but deliberate. His expression was calm as always, but his eyes glead with a quiet storm. A man dressed not to impress—but to command.
He took one final glance at himself, picked up his watch from the dresser, strapped it on, and stepped out of the room.
In the living room—
"Big broooo!!"
The sudden chorus made him pause at the top of the stairs.
Hope and Asher ca charging across the hallway like little rockets, eyes wide, their socks slipping slightly on the smooth tiles as they skidded to a stop in front of him.
Hope gasped dramatically, both hands on her cheeks."Woooow, you look like a prince!! Like the one from mommy’s storybooks!"
Asher nodded enthusiastically, fists clenched in awe. "No! He looks like... like a secret agent! No—like both! Prince and agent!"
They circled him like excited puppies, looking up with sparkling eyes. Miles couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped him.
"I’ll take both titles, thank you."
From across the room, Elena was already watching, hands clasped.
A proud, soft smile touched her lips as she approached slowly. "My son..." she murmured, her voice almost caught in her throat. "You look so handso."
She reached up, gently adjusting his tie even though it didn’t need fixing. Her fingers lingered there a mont longer than needed, as if morizing the shape of his grown-up collarbone. A thousand mories behind her gaze.
Daniel, sitting on the couch, chuckled from behind his newspaper. "Better be careful, Miles. You walk into that event looking like this, and half the city’s heirs are going to panic."
Miles gave him a smirk. "I’ll manage."
He turned to the twins, bent down to their level. "Alright, little ones. Big bro’s going out now. You two be good, alright?"
Hope gave him a tiny salute. "Aye-aye, Prince Agent!"
Miles walked to the garage and unlocked the gates with a remote click. One of the sleek cars—a black luxury coupé with glossy edges and midnight-tinted windows—stood like a shadow under the fluorescent lights.
He stepped in, started the engine, and it purred like a beast waiting to be unleashed.
The garage door rolled open.
Monts later, the car slid out into the evening light and began cruising down the road—toward Wraithbourne’s mansion.
The night, and the city, awaited.
The sleek black car rolled silently up the long, curved driveway of the Wraithbourne estate.
Iron gates had already parted at the first recognition of the license plate. The mansion lood ahead—elegant, tiless. Golden lights bathed its stone pillars and sprawling balconies, casting warm shadows across the immaculate garden paths.
The vehicle ca to a stop beneath the grand portico. A valet approached, bowing lightly as Miles stepped out.
Dressed in his charcoal suit, Miles adjusted the cuff of his jacket and took in a slow breath. Then, he walked forward—each step quiet, confident.
The tall, double doors opened before he reached them. A butler welcod him with a nod, guiding him through the wide marble hallway and into the familiar main lounge.
Inside the mansion—
A soft jazz tune played in the background, mingling with the low hum of the fireplace.
Victor Wraithbourne, still sharp in his early fifties, stood beside the mantelpiece. Dressed in a classic tux, he exuded a powerful air—more of a statesman than a businessman. He looked up as Miles entered, a genuine smile creasing his features.
"Good evening, uncle," Miles greeted, his tone warm but composed.
Victor opened his arms slightly. "Good evening, son. You look good, Co in, co in. Have a seat." He gestured to the leather armchairs by the fire.
Miles sat down, nodding respectfully. A maid passed silently behind them, placing a glass of sparkling water by his side.
Victor leaned back, sighing. "Celina’s still getting ready, of course. You know how won are. Your aunty used to make wait nearly an hour back in the day."
Miles let out a soft chuckle, his eyes drifting toward the upstairs landing. "So things never change."
Victor smiled, but his expression slowly shifted to sothing more serious. "Son... there’ll be a lot of eyes tonight."
Miles t his gaze, listening carefully.
"All the heirs of the city’s old families will be present. Rich kids. Ego fights. Petty drama." He leaned forward slightly. "Take care of Celina. You know how these young n can be—entitled, arrogant, spoiled. One wrong move and we’re in headlines tomorrow."
Miles nodded. "Don’t worry, uncle. I’ll keep her safe."
Victor exhaled in relief, but then his tone dropped slightly lower. "There’s one more thing."
Miles straightened in his seat. "I’m listening."
Victor’s eyes sharpened. "If you see anyone from the Hall family... stay alert." His voice was steady, but laced with underlying tension. "They’ve been targeting my business for years. Undercutting deals, twisting narratives. And tonight, I wouldn’t put it past them to cause trouble. Especially if you’re by Celina’s side."
Miles’s gaze didn’t flinch.
"If anyone tries anything... I’ll handle it."
Victor studied the young man for a second longer, then smiled.
"That’s a relief. I knew I could count on you."
Just then, faint footsteps echoed from upstairs—the sound of heels on polished wood.
Victor looked toward the staircase with a smirk.
"Speak of the devil... she’s coming."
The soft rhythm of heels echoed down the grand staircase.
Victor and Miles both turned toward the sound—but only one of them forgot to breathe.
Celina Wraithbourne descended slowly, one hand grazing the polished mahogany banister. She wore a floor-length midnight sapphire gown, its silky fabric hugging her fra like flowing moonlight. The dress shimred with subtle patterns, as if constellations had been stitched into the fabric. A high slit on the side revealed just enough elegance, and the plunging neckline was tastefully balanced by sheer, embroidered sleeves that sparkled with tiny diamond-like accents.
Her hair was styled in soft waves cascading over one shoulder, pinned delicately with a sapphire clip. Around her neck, a single white-gold choker glinted beneath the chandelier’s light—simple, regal, and impossibly expensive. Her makeup was graceful—natural tones with a bold lip that frad her confident smile.
She was radiant. Like nobility stepped out of a painting.
And Miles... was frozen.
He stood without realizing, his usual composure slipping into stunned silence. His eyes scanned her slowly—not out of lust, but out of awe. There were no guards in that mont. No mission. No threat. Just her—walking into the room like she’d always belonged on a red carpet.
Celina paused at the last step and raised an eyebrow, smiling at him mischievously.
Snap!
She clicked her fingers with a teasing smirk. "Hello, Mr. Sterling? Earth to Miles. How do I look?"
Miles blinked—his trance broken.
He cleared his throat, the corner of his lips tugging into a smile. "You look... pretty." Then, with a playful glance, he added, "I’m not sure how I’ll keep you safe tonight... from all the eyes that’ll be on you."
Victor chuckled heartily from the side. "Hah! That’s my daughter."
Celina turned to him, blushing slightly. "Thanks, Dad."
Victor reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a sleek envelope—handing it to her.
"This is the check. For the donation. It’s in your na. Represent us well, sweetheart."
Celina nodded, taking the envelope with both hands. "I will."
Victor gave her a gentle kiss on the forehead. Then looked at Miles.
"Take care of her, son."
Miles nodded with a calm, reassuring smile. "Always."
Victor gestured toward the door with mock urgency. "Now go—before I change my mind and co along too."
The pair laughed lightly, then walked toward the front entrance side by side—the moonlight from the glass canopy washing over them as the mansion doors opened once more.
Miles stepped ahead and opened the passenger-side door with a quiet, gentlemanly poise.
"After you, milady." he said softly, offering his hand.
Celina smirked at his theatrics but took his hand anyway, gracefully lowering herself into the passenger seat. The dress flowed like silk over the leather interior as she settled in.
"You clean up well, Sterling," she said, watching him walk around the front of the car with effortless confidence.
Miles slid into the driver’s seat, tightened his tie slightly, and started the engine. The car purred to life.
He eased onto the road, the streetlights flickering across the windshield as they drove into the city.
Celina turned her head, leaning slightly toward him.
"Handso and mysterious... You’re going to be a problem tonight, Miles. Girls are going to stare. A lot."
Miles kept his eyes on the road, lips curling into a teasing smile."What a trouble," he sighed dramatically."Guess you’ll have to protect ."
Celina laughed under her breath, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "Maybe I will. But if soone tries to flirt with you, don’t expect to be nice."
Miles glanced at her with an amused smirk. "I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that."
The soft hum of the engine filled the space between them, but it wasn’t silence—it was comfort. The city lights grew brighter ahead, and the air carried the subtle tension of sothing grand just about to begin.
"Ready for the chaos?" he asked, as they neared the venue.
Celina smiled at the skyline ahead. "Only if you are."
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