CHAPTER 3
She put her sunglasses back on, her reflection flashing in the lenses before she turned away and walked to the far side of the garden. Event organizers were rearranging the space for dinner—white tables set with golden cutlery and candles ready to be lit.
At one of the service tables, she reached for a champagne flute, the cool stem brushing her fingers. She brought it to her lips and turned to face the crowd. The sky was fading to a soft lavender, and the air hummed with music and chatter.
She didn't care if she looked silly still wearing her sunglasses in the dim light. She liked the protection they offered—no one could tell where she was looking.
Her gaze inevitably drifted back to him.
Her stepbrother stood in the midst of laughter and perfume, trying to appear polite, but she noticed the tension in his shoulders and the unease in his eyes. He turned down a few requests for photos with a courteous smile that didn't reach his eyes. But one girl—bolder than the rest—hung around him. She said something that made the others somehow irritated, whispering behind their manicured hands.
Alisson tilted her head, amused. She couldn't hear them, but she could read the energy. Trouble was brewing.
Her lips curved. She raised her glass slightly and hid her smirk behind it, taking a slow sip as if toasting his discomfort.
Then—he looked up.
Their eyes met.
It was brief, but the air seemed still between them. His gaze was sharp and assessing—almost too direct, as if her sunglasses didn't exist. Alisson felt her smile waver for a heartbeat. The confidence she usually carried so easily faltered under that look.
But only for a second.
Then she lifted her glass higher, a silent, playful salute.
He didn't smile back. Instead, his brows furrowed slightly, as if trying to see her face beneath the tint of her glasses. His expression shifted—something unreadable flickered across it—then he looked away.
Following his gaze, Alisson noticed a middle-aged man approaching her. He was well-dressed, grinning, and already holding a champagne glass.
"Uh-oh," she muttered.
He was the type who thought a confident young woman alone was an open invitation.
Before he could reach her, she tipped her glass back, drained the remaining champagne in one smooth motion, and set it down with a soft clink.
Then she turned and walked away—fast enough to seem effortless, slow enough to appear intentional.
Let him find someone else to bother. Tonight, she wasn't in the mood or, rather, not interested in any other guy at all.
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Xavion stood in front of the small crowd, mostly women dressed to impress. Cameras flashed like fireflies around him. He had long mastered the art of smiling politely for publicity, but right now, he was losing patience.
In front of him, Claudia stood firm and held her head high. Her black hair touched her shoulders and the long white gown she was wearing barely touched the ground. This girl was striking as well with a narrow nose, blue doe eyes, and a full lower lip. If not for the new girl that had arrived, she could be the most beautiful among the young adults around his age.
He had a history with her. He put an end to it at the end of their school year, a few weeks ago. They weren't like before anymore as they continued to grow into reality. But Claudia was still speaking and acting up for him. Just like at the moment.
Her tone was sharp as she told the girls to back off. "Seriously, give him space," she said, her hand half-raised as if she had the authority.
One of her friends shot back, "You don't get to tell us what to do anymore, Claudia. You two are done, remember?"
The words sliced through the air. Claudia's dark eyebrows arched and her expression turned grim. She didn't have to be reminded that he wasn't hers anymore. That she didn't have the right to showcase him in front of everyone. And that she had the perfect boyfriend and the perfect life that most girls envied her for after he ended their relationship. She hasn't agreed to it.
These girls were the people who followed her and considered her friends socially. But she knew that they were also pining for him even when they were still in a relationship. "Gretchen, we're all daughters of wealthy families here and we all know that among us, I'm the best."
Xavion wanted to roll his eyes and laugh at that. People only knew the superficial things about them. Sure, they had loved each other genuinely but that was before things started to change as time changed them also. They grew up. They were not teens anymore.
"So why do you think he would settle for less?" Claudia even pointed a finger at her friend and the rest of the girls' faces were caught in surprise by her degrading tone.
Xavion's jaw tightened. The last thing he needed was another scene. He wanted to move away, but he knew if he stepped back, they would follow him. With the cameras still snapping, that would look even worse. Their company couldn't afford another round of gossip to tarnish their already fragile reputation.
He sighed silently, turning his gaze away from the rising tension.
That's when he saw her.
At a distance, near the champagne table, a girl in white. His new stepsister.
Even from afar, she stood out. Her silhouette was sharp under the dim lights. One hand held a champagne flute, while the other folded in front of her. The soft waves of her brown hair glimmered under the warm glow.
And those sunglasses. Still on, even though the sun had disappeared behind the horizon. He saw how those hazel eyes twinkled when she stopped in front of the platform and Corinne tightly embraced her. She was truly breathtaking. Her reaction when her mother hugged her left him curious. He could see the conflicting emotions in those hazel eyes as he stared at her earlier.
Xavion squinted slightly. His vision wasn't great from that distance; her figure blurred at the edges. He couldn't tell if she was looking at him, but something about her stillness made him think she was.
Then—she raised her glass.
Toward him.
He froze. Is that meant for me?
Before he could react, movement caught his eye. A man walked toward her, smiling, clearly eager to start a conversation. Xavion frowned slightly. He glanced back at the crowd in front of him, just in time to hear Claudia's sharp tone again.
"Don't touch him!" she snapped.
Her so-called friends laughed mockingly. "You can't control everything, Claudia. He's single now."
He took a step back, just in case a catfight broke out. The last thing he wanted was to be caught in a hair-pulling brawl—he valued his suit too much.
Then suddenly—
The tension broke in a different way.
Someone stepped into his space. Just below the edge of the platform he was standing on. A soft rustle of fabric. A faint trace of perfume.
Xavion blinked.
The girl with the sunglasses was now standing right in front of him.
Up close, she was even more striking—delicate features with a subtle sharpness, like art carved from light. Soft brown eyebrows, a little narrow nose that was half covered by the lenses, and plump pink lips. He avoided looking down further, as her neck and shoulders were quite exposed, and there was a hint of a cleavage line from his standing point above the half-step platform. He had to tilt his head down to properly look at her rather than just seeing her under his nose. She barely reached his chest.
She tilted her head up, raising her sunglasses just enough for him to see the glint of hazel eyes underneath. Her other hand was propped behind her.
She smiled. Calm, confident, a little mischievous.
"Can I take a picture with you?" she asked.