The Frenchman trailing behind them raised an eyebrow in surprise. He hadn’t expected such deference, especially from the general manager of the Imperial Hotel. In his experience, the staff here were known for their pride and professionalism.


    The Imperial Hotel wasn’t just any hotel; it was one of the most prestigious establishments in the country, offering unmatched sries and benefits. Positions were fiercelypetitive—even roles like bellhop, security, or housekeeping were coveted.


    What stood out most was the staff’s integrity. Bribery was unheard of. No one wanted to risk losing a job at a ce like this. That upromising standard was precisely why the organizers of the IGI Expressions Competition had chosen this hotel—its impable reputation for security, privacy, and discretion.


    A single night here could cost a small fortune, but for those who valued luxury, safety, and exclusivity, it was well worth the price.


    And now, seeing the general manager bowing to Hera like a true heiress, the Frenchman couldn’t help but look at her in a new light.


    As far as he could remember, the presidential suite at the Imperial Hotel was never open to the public. No matter how powerful or influential the guest—even visiting heads of state—the hotel always declined requests to book that room. It had remained perpetually "unavable," and now he understood why.


    It wasn’t unavable. It was reserved—exclusively—for <i>her</i>.


    For the mysterious "Young Miss Hera" the staff spoke of with such respect.


    That revtion was striking. It meant Hera wasn’t just a guest—she was someone of serious standing. And to think someone had tried to humiliate her here, of all ces... the Frenchman couldn’t help but feel he had stumbled upon a hidden gem, one far more valuable than he had first realized.


    As Hera and the others entered the suite, the Frenchman continued to follow quietly behind them. In fact, he was so discreet that most of the group assumed he had already left. Even the bodyguard nearly missed his presence. But since no one told him to leave, he figured Hera had allowed him to stay.


    Unbeknownst to him, Hera hadn’t actually noticed him at all—she had simply forgotten he was there.


    The most stunned among them were Minerva and Liz. They followed Hera into the suite almost absentmindedly, still processing everything. The general manager personally pushed in the cart of refreshments, a gesture that made it even clearer how special this visit was.


    The presidential suite took up the entire top floor—it was massive, more like a private residence than a hotel room. Nearly every wall was lined with tall French windows, offering panoramic views of Paris. The Eiffel Tower gleamed in the distance, but that was only part of the breathtaking cityscape. Though the building wasn’t a skyscraper, its elevation and thoughtful architecture provided a perfect vantage point.


    True to Parisian style, the hotel had preserved its historical charm. The exterior matched the city’s ssic aesthetic, and inside the suite, authentic, priceless pieces were disyed throughout—original artwork, antique furniture, and rare collectibles. It felt more like a private museum than a hotel suite.


    Minerva and the Frenchman couldn’t hide their awe. The paintings alone could fetch millions at auction, yet here they were, casually adorning the walls as if they were nothing more than decoration.


    But then again, it made sense. The suite wasn’t open to the public. It was exclusively reserved for the Avery family, and when unupied, it remained locked and protected by a high-level security system. Withser-detection protocols and ess restrictions, no intruder could ever hope to break in unnoticed.


    Now that they were seeing the suite for the first time, Minerva, Liz, and the Frenchman couldn’t help but nce at Hera with a mixture of awe, curiosity, and quiet disbelief. Only Athena and the bodyguard seemedpletely unfazed, as if this level of luxury was nothing out of the ordinary.


    Hera felt their stares, but she paid them no mind. She casually sank into the plush, cream-colored sofa, her posture rxed, as if she truly belonged there—which she did.


    The bodyguard quietly retrieved Hera’s luggage and carried it to the master bedroom. Once he finished, he returned to the living area and stood silently in the corner, straight-backed like a sentinel.


    Athena joined Hera on the sofa, her expression calm andposed, while the general manager respectfully stepped forward and opened the selection of fine champagne and wine.


    "Young Miss, which would you like to try?" she asked, presenting the bottles with practiced elegance.


    Hera turned her head, studying the offerings thoughtfully before giving a soft smile. "Let’s go with the champagne. Choose the one you personally rmend."


    As the general manager nodded and moved to prepare the sses, Hera tilted her head back slightly, enjoying the fresh breeze drifting in through the open French windows. Unlike the climate-controlled interiors back home, Parisian buildings rarely relied on air conditioning. Instead, they embraced nature. In colder months, they lit fireces; in spring and summer, they opened their windows wide and let the wind breathe life into the room.


    There was something simple and beautiful about it—something Hera found oddlyforting.


    She turned her gaze out the window, where the iconic Eiffel Tower stood proudly in full view. The cement of the living room was perfect, clearly a thoughtful decision by the designer. Anyone sitting here could enjoy an uninterrupted view of the tower, day or night. In the evenings, that view would transform into something truly romantic, with the Eiffel Tower lit up against the Parisian skyline.