?Chapter 337:


    As Doreen scanned the glittering ballroom, her gaze locked onto a familiar figure near the refreshment table. Ste stood there, casually sipping her orange juice, her Klein-blue dress impossible to miss. The color wrapped around her like it was made just for her—cool, refined, effortlessly elegant. It made her wless skin glow beneath the warm lights.


    Doreen’s chest tightened. They were both wearing blue, but somehow Ste made the hue feel iconic. Once again, she stole the spotlight without even trying. Doreen bit her lip, caught off guard by the surge of insecurity. What was she doing here?


    Forcing a smile, Doreen leaned in and tugged at Marc’s sleeve. “Mr. Walsh,” she said, sweet but sharp-edged, “Ste’s here.”


    Before he could reply, Doreen guided him toward Ste, her heels clicking confidently against the marble floor.


    “Ste! What a surprise to see you here again,” Doreen said with a sharine smile.


    Marc’s eyes locked onto Ste. For a moment, he forgot where he was. She looked almost unreal—like a vision straight out of his memories—and his heart skipped.


    Ste returned a thin smile, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. Surprise? More like terrible luck.


    Doreen’s eyes gleamed with mischief as she leaned closer. “The next song’s about to start. Mr. Walsh, how about you dance with Ste? I heard you two were the most synchronized partners back in school. That chemistry doesn’t just disappear, does it?” She gave Marc’s arm a yful push toward Ste.


    Marc froze as a flood of memories hit him: their time in the school dance troupe, winningpetitions, gliding across the floor in perfect sync. Their salsa routines, their tangos—he could still feel their rhythm together. The instructor had always called them the “dream pair.”


    He blinked, the upbeat music in the hall pulling him back to the present. Slowly, he lifted his hand to invite Ste to dance.


    But before he could step forward, a pair of polished ck shoes appeared in his field of vision—William’s. William slipped in smoothly, not sparing Marc a nce. Turning to Ste, he offered his hand with quiet, practiced confidence.


    “Ms. Gilbert,” he said in a low, steady voice, “may I have the honor of this first dance tonight?”


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    William had said his first dance—not Ste’s.


    She nced at the hand he offered, hesitation flickering in her eyes for just a moment.


    Behind William, Marc stood frozen, watching the way Ste’s eyes lit up as they met William’s. A surge of frustration rose in his chest.


    He had approached her first. So why did William have to cut in?


    Still, Marc didn’t dare show his irritation openly—not in front of William. All he could do was clench his jaw and let out a tight, forced scoff. “I didn’t expect someone of your status, Mr. Briggs, to ignore basic courtesy. Shouldn’t the one who arrived first get priority?”


    William slowly turned to face him, a faint, mocking smirk curling his lips. “Priority is for objects, Mr. Walsh. Ms. Gilbert is not an object—she’s free to choose. Since you’ve extended an invitation, let’s see who she prefers.” His tone was calm, but the confidence behind it was unmistakable. He wasn’t worried—not in the slightest.


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