?Chapter 1236:
Chris’s white suit, tailored perfectly to his frame, gave him an air of quiet refinement. The crisp fabric entuated his poise, carrying a touch of nobility that made him look every bit like a modern-day prince.
For a brief moment, Maia wondered if it was just her imagination, but there was no denying that something had changed. Chris’s eyes held a quiet authority now, a steady confidence that made him seem far more self-assured than before.
Across from her, Chris’s gaze drifted back to Maia once again. Even when she turned away, he found himself unable to look elsewhere. Every nce stirred something deep within him.
Maia’s voice broke the silence. “Mr. Cooper, you look quite dashing yourself today. I imagine you’ll draw plenty of attention at the party.”
Turning to meet his eyes, she let her gaze linger briefly on his striking features before reminding him gently, “But don’t forget why we’re going.”
“Sure.” He shrugged lightly. “Tonight, I’m not pretending to be yboy Chris. Tonight, I’m only your bodyguard.”
A soft smile curved Maia’s lips as she stepped closer and slipped her arm through his. “My dear bodyguard, it’s time for us to depart.”
Chris felt his pulse quicken the instant she linked her arm with his. Walking beside her felt unreal, as though they were heading toward an altar, ready to exchange vows before a crowd holding its breath.
Back in Maia’s room, herptop screen suddenly flickered to life.
At the center of the disy appeared the insignia of Pris, the notorious hacking group famed for breaching the world’s most secure systems—the symbol of Pris shining against the night sky.
Momentster, a dialog box appeared, the message stark against the glowing screen. The sender, identified as Pris Chief, typed, “Boss, everything’s set. System infiltrationplete.”
Meanwhile, at Cooper Vineyard, Hurst cut a striking figure beneath the golden afternoon light—tall,posed, and sharp in a crisp white suit that stood out against the rows of lush green vines. There was a quiet authority in the way he carried himself, the air around him charged with purpose.
He stood near the entrance, giving calm yet firm instructions as staff members carefully loaded crates of Bordeaux into the waiting van. Each bottle had been handpicked for the evening’s banquet—rare, exquisite, and worth a small fortune.
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Among them was one bottle in particr—the gem Maia had once secured for him at an auction, a brilliant deal that still made him smile whenever he thought of it.
“Hold on a second,” he called, raising a hand just as an employee reached for it. “Not that one. Swap it for another.”
“Yes, Mr. Cooper,” the employee replied, hurrying off and leaving the prized bottle behind.
Hurst lingered, lifting it himself and turning it slowly in his hand. The dark ss caught the sunlight, and for a fleeting moment, memories surfaced—the day he had first met Maia. It had been over a wine tasting, a meeting born of curiosity that had somehow unraveled into something far more personal. Fate, it seemed, had a peculiar sense of humor.
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