Chapter 3

The Sterling Department Store's autumn launch cocktail party was the opening whistle of the Manhattan social season. Held in a loft in the Meatpacking District, champagne towers spiraled toward the ceiling while celebrities and socialites clinked glasses behind red velvet ropes. The air was thick with the scent of expensive perfume and even cheaper insincerity.

Bella, dressed in a severe black business suit, stood in a corner cross-referencing the Guest List. She was not merely Liam's girlfriend; she was the de facto orchestrator of this entire spectacle. From the hue of the floral arrangements to the flavor profile of the canapés, every detail bore her signature.

"Oh my, isn't that Bella?" A voice rang out, sweet enough to induce diabetes and sharp enough to draw blood.

Serena Vance approached, clinging to Liam's arm. She wore a floor-length silver sequined gown that made her look like a glittering viper. Although the Vance family trust fund had shrunk so severely they’d had to lease out their Hamptons estate, the surname remained her platinum pass to bulldoze through high society.

"Good evening, Miss Vance," Bella nodded politely, maintaining a practiced, professional smile.

"Liam was just telling me how hard you work," Serena smirked, her eyes darting pointedly to the cheap plastic laminate of Bella’s staff badge. "I truly envy you. Being able to fight your way up from the bottom... unlike us. We’re born burdened with family legacies; I can’t even grab a coffee without the tabloids writing a column about it."

Liam offered an awkward chuckle from the sidelines, swirling his champagne, saying nothing.

"By the way, Bella, could you fetch me a glass of red? I want Pinot Noir, not Cabernet—it’s too tannic," Serena extended a wrist adorned with a massive diamond bracelet, her tone as natural as if she were instructing a parlor maid.

Bella paused for a heartbeat, then turned to retrieve the wine. Just as she handed the glass over, Serena’s fingers suddenly went limp.

*Splash—*

Dark crimson liquid drenched the front of Bella’s blazer like a grotesque, weeping wound.

"Oh my god! You are so clumsy!" Serena shrieked theatrically, drawing the gaze of everyone nearby. "This is Haute Couture straight from Paris! Thank heavens it didn't get on me, but look at you... tsk, tsk. I suppose wearing dark colors for this sort of work is wise; at least the filth doesn't show. Though this carpet is an antique—I do hope it washes out."

"Serena, don't be like that," Liam finally spoke, but he only gently tugged at Serena's arm. His tone was drenched in indulgence, as if chiding a mischievous child.

Bella looked down at her soaked shirt, then glanced at the bracelet on Serena's wrist. It was a limited edition Van Cleef & Arpels Alhambra. However, as the hidden heiress to the AUREA Group—trained rigorously in luxury appraisal since childhood—Bella recognized it instantly. It was a high-end fake from Guangdong. The setting of the quatrefoil was too crude; the edges hadn't even been polished smooth.

She looked up, her gaze terrifyingly calm, and spoke in a voice audible only to the three of them: "It’s quite alright, Miss Vance. Fake things are always prone to slipping—whether it’s a cup, or something else. Also, a word of advice: next time you go to Canal Street to buy a knockoff, try to pick one with better craftsmanship."

Serena’s face drained of color, but Bella had already turned on her heel, her heels clicking sharply against the marble floor as she walked toward the restroom.

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