Mark arrived alongside Chloe Dupont, looking visibly shaken despite his sharp tux. Chloe squeezed his arm, her diamond necklace sparkling under the chandeliers. "Don't worry, Mark. My father is the guest host tonight. Once he signs the emergency guarantee, your family's little financial hiccup will vanish."

As they stepped into the main hall, Chloe suddenly stopped, her eyes narrowing at a figure standing near the grand champagne fountain.

It was Liam, dressed comfortably in his tailored tuxedo, holding a glass of sparkling water while admiring the grand architecture.

"What is a coffee boy doing in a place like this?" Chloe sneered, strutting toward him with loud, echoing footfalls. "Security! How did a servant sneak into a private hundred-thousand-dollar plate event?"

Liam turned calmly, meeting her hostile glare without flinching. "I was invited as a guest, Miss Dupont."

Mark stepped forward, eager to unleash his pent-up frustration on an easy target. "Invited? By whom? Did you sneak in through the kitchen to steal leftover champagne? Know your place, peasant. People like you don't belong on this floor."

Before Liam could reply, the room’s ambient chatter dropped into complete, suffocating silence.

The massive double mahogany doors at the head of the grand staircase swung open. Two rows of armored guards in immaculate dress uniforms lined the stairs, bowing heads in unison as a solitary figure stepped into the light.

Every camera lens pivoted. Every breath in the room hitched.

It was Victoria.

Gone was the faded grey sweater and the paint-stained denim. She wore an off-the-shoulder gown woven from spun gold thread, cascading seamlessly around her regal silhouette. Her deep brown hair was styled in a flawless, elevated updo, anchored by a sweeping diamond-encrusted tiara that caught every facet of the chandelier light. Her deep eyes held the cold, commanding authority of a sovereign monarch.

Beside her walked Arthur, holding a black leather ledger of global assets.

Mark stood rooted to the spot, his blood running cold. His jaw went slack as his eyes traversed her features—the delicate jawline, the piercing gaze, the effortless elegance. "Vic... Victoria?" he stammered, his voice barely a whisper. "No... that’s impossible. That can't be her..."

Chloe snapped her fan shut, her face twisting in disgust. "That worthless ex-girlfriend of yours? Mark, are you blind? She probably spent her life savings renting a dress to crash this party!"

Driven by denial and desperation, Mark shoved past the surrounding guests and marched directly toward the base of the staircase, barring Victoria’s path.

"Victoria!" Mark barked loudly, loud enough for the entire ballroom to hear. "What kind of pathetic game are you playing? Stealing a fake crown and crashing a billionaire's gala just to get my attention? You think wearing fine clothes changes the fact that you’re a nobody from a run-down apartment?"

Chloe rushed up beside Mark, pointing an accusing finger. "Security! Throw this fraud out before she embarrasses the Dupont family any further!"