A/N: This is my first attempt at writing an original novel and moreover a romance one at that. I'm also not used to writing in first POV, so be patient with me if it's not perfect.
I'll gladly take any sort of constructive criticisms readers have on how I could write better. However, I already have the full story outline completed which I will not be making big changes to. It will be 7 arcs total, around 150 chapters long and 1000-2000 words per chapter.
If you haven't caught on by reading the synopsis already, this does have the mind-reading trope which I have always adored. Take it or leave it, your choice.
Shen Yue's Inner Thoughts will be italicized: Should I grab a chair for the show?
Anyways, I hope you enjoy!
*************
The ballroom glimmers under crystal chandeliers, their light fracturing across polished marble floors like a thousand tiny stars. Haicheng's elite swirl around me, champagne flutes clinking, their laughter sharp as the diamonds dripping from their wrists. I'm Shen Yue, nineteen, and this sapphire gown—borrowed from some dusty Shen family closet—pinches my waist like a jealous rival.
These stilettos, wobbling beneath my 160cm frame, might as well be a lawsuit waiting to happen. I tug my ponytail, the long black strands swaying as I weave through the crowd, brushing past a waiter balancing a tray of sparkling drinks. My emerald eyes scan the room, catching every glance, every whisper.
I'm the Shen heiress, but the title fits like this dress: ill-fitting, temporary, a lie stitched together with money and expectation. Without their name, I'm nothing—a fact they never let me forget.
The air hums with judgment, socialites' eyes slicing through me. My "father," Shen Guoliang, stands by a gilded pillar, his gray eyes cold, calculating my worth like I'm a stock about to crash. Spoiler: I'm in the red. My "mother," Fang Lihua, hovers nearby, her silk shawl fluttering as she chats with a cluster of women, her champagne flute clutched like a lifeline.
She hasn't looked my way all night, but I feel her disdain from across the room. I keep my chin high, lips curved in a practiced smile, but inside, I'm a storm of snark. Look at them, strutting like they own the world. Newsflash: money doesn't buy grace.
To steady my nerves, I hum a violin riff in my head—a minor-key Lament I'd compose for this gilded cage. Sharp strings for their whispered jabs, a low cello for the dread knotting my chest, a faint violin trill for the defiance I'm barely holding onto. If I had my violin here, I'd play this room to silence.
I spot Jiang Yifan, my so-called fiancé, across the ballroom, leaning into Shen Jiayi, my "sister." Her red gown clings to her curves, curls tossed with a rehearsed giggle that echoes over the chatter. Green-tea queen, working her socialite halo. They're practically broadcasting betrayal, his arm brushing hers, his tuxedo catching the chandelier light.
My stomach twists—not from love, but from the sinking certainty this night's about to implode. Should I grab a chair for the show? I mentally sketch a Betrayal Symphony for Yifan: sleazy saxophones for his slimy charm, a discordant crash for the inevitable fallout. The violin riff in my head sharpens, its notes slicing through my unease as I grip my water glass, its chill grounding me.
"Yue, darling!" Jiayi's voice cuts through the crowd, sticky-sweet and loud enough to turn heads. Her smile is all charm, but her eyes flash with envy, like she's clinging to her spotlight and I'm a rival stealing her glow. Oh, Jiayi, that halo's slipping already. The crowd leans in, their anticipation thick as the perfume cloud around her.
"Don't stand there alone. Join us!" she says, gesturing elegantly, her crimson nails glinting. I glide forward, my frame straightening defiantly, smile unwavering despite the tremor in my fingers. "Wouldn't miss it, Jiayi," I say, voice smooth as the marble beneath my heels. Let's see how long I can play nice before I snap.
Yifan's smirk makes my skin crawl, his slicked-back hair gleaming under the lights. "Yue," he says, loud enough for the nearby guests to hear, "that gown's… quaint." The word lands like a slap, and a few socialites titter, their eyes glinting with amusement. Jiayi's nails graze his arm, her smile razor-edged, that envy flickering again as she notes my poised stance. Quaint? Your wit's a blunt knife, Yifan.
I tilt my head, keeping my tone light. "And you're predictable." Jiayi's eyes narrow, her halo dimming. "Careful, Yue," she whispers, leaning in close, her perfume cloying. "You're on thin ice." Thin ice? I've been skating it my whole life. I meet her gaze, smile steady. "Good thing I'm light on my feet."
Fang Lihua approaches moments later, her champagne flute trembling slightly in her manicured hand. "Yue," she hisses, barely meeting my emerald eyes, "don't embarrass us tonight." Her voice is a needle, sharp and precise. Embarrass you? I'm already your biggest shame, Mother. I nod, smile intact. "Of course, Mother. I'll do my best."
The lie tastes bitter, but I swallow it, my fingers tightening on my glass. The music shifts, a minor-key waltz weaving through the air, its taut strings mirroring the knot in my chest. My hand trembles, and I hum my Lament riff again, the violin notes in my mind rising to steady me. Don't break here, Yue. You're stronger than their whispers.
A different gaze catches me, distinct from the crowd's judgment. Gu Hanchuan, Haicheng's untouchable CEO, leans against a pillar, his hazel eyes sharp, his suit crisp as glass. He's watching me, expression unreadable but intense, his gaze flicking to my trembling hand, then back to my face. What's his deal? Judging my borrowed gown?
I meet his eyes, and he raises his glass slightly, lips twitching in a faint, almost amused curve. Okay, Mr. CEO, that's not just staring. What's your game? My heart skips, a traitor to my focus, but I shove it down. No swooning over billionaires when you're dodging knives. Still, his gaze lingers, like he sees something the others miss—something beyond the fake heiress in a hand-me-down dress.
Jiayi steps closer, her perfume overwhelming now. "Not feeling out of place, are you?" she says, tilting her head with false concern, her voice loud enough to draw the crowd's eyes again. Out of place? You're loving this, aren't you? I force a smile, my Lament riff humming louder in my mind to keep me grounded. "Just enjoying the view, Jiayi. It's… enlightening."
Her eyes flash, a crack in her halo, but she recovers with a laugh, redirecting the crowd's attention. The waltz swells, its minor chords wrapping around me like a warning, urging me to stay sharp.
The crowd's murmur shifts, a ripple drawing my eyes to a woman in an emerald dress nearby, her whispered "She's not a real Shen" catching my ear before she turns away. I stiffen, but before I can dwell, Jiayi exchanges a quick glance with Yifan, her smile tightening. He breaks from her, his stride confident as he moves toward the stage at the front of the ballroom.
The microphone glints in his hand, catching the chandelier light. The guests hush, their anticipation a heavy weight in the air. Jiayi's smile widens, her glow almost triumphant as she watches him ascend the steps. My chest tightens, the knot twisting harder. Here it comes. My public execution. Time for the main event.
I set my water glass down on a passing tray, fingers steady despite the tremor in my heart. The chandeliers blur again, but I blink them clear, lifting my chin. If I'm going down, I'll make damn sure it's a show.
******************
A/N: So, what did you all think? Drop a review to let me know!