The three girls exchanged nces, and without saying a word, silently agreed: ’<i>Not getting involved in this.’</i> Like seasoned soldiers avoiding a battlefield, they quietly stepped aside, determined not to be coteral damage in what was clearly a very awkward love triangle... or quadrangle.


    "Oh! Look at the time, we need to move now," Athena said with a deadpan expression, ncing at her wrist—only to realize she wasn’t wearing a watch. Her eyes shifted awkwardly around the room until she spotted the antique grandfather clock in the corner. She nodded toward it with mock seriousness, as if that had been her n all along.


    Liz chimed in quickly, clutching her forehead. "I need caffeine... or maybe something solid. I’m going to die."


    Then Minerva added, "I think I forgot my phone in my room—"


    Her voice trailed off as she blinked down at her hand, which clearly held her phone. She had been mid-report to her brother just moments ago, but the tension in the room had fried her memory.


    Watching her friends abandon her one by one, Hera felt the urge to cry. This was betrayal, friendly, well-meaning betrayal, but betrayal nheless. And now, judging by everyone’s expressions, it was clear: ’<i>they all knew</i>’. Every moan, every creak, every embarrassing detail.


    Then, like a divine intervention or a cruel twist of fate, the doorbell rang.


    Athena practically bolted to answer it, eager to flee the awkward minefield. She swung the door open to reveal the hotel manager and a staff member pushing arge breakfast cart.


    Just like the day before, they were greeted by the sight of a glorious spread: eggs, fruit, croissants, and more. The morning sunlight filtered into the suite, making the air on the balcony feel crisp and refreshing.


    While the staff arranged the food, the manager stepped forward and bowed politely. "Young Miss, your helicopter is scheduled to arrive on the rooftop at 6:50 a.m. Please make your way upstairs once you’ve finished eating."


    And the moment the hotel manager said it, nearly everyone gasped. None of them had known the Imperial Hotel even <i>had</i> a rooftop helipad. Was that even legal in a historical building like this? A helicopter? They could actually <ind a helicopter here</i>?


    The real shock, however, hit Xavier, Antoine, and Alexandre hardest. So... the "ride" Hera casually mentionedst night, the one she said would pick her up in the morning, wasn’t a car or a van. It was <i>a helicopter</i>?


    Alexandre nced sideways and caught the genuine surprise on Xavier’s face. That sealed it. This wasn’t something Xavier had arranged. He was just as stunned as the rest of them. Which could only mean <i>someone else</i> had nned this for Hera.


    Taking the cue to escape the awkward tension, Hera quickly moved to the table on the balcony, where breakfast was being set up piece by piece. One of the staff handed her a cup of hot chocte, perfectly paired with the freshly baked croissants. Without hesitation, she dipped one into the steaming drink and took a bite, letting thefort of food and routine ground her nerves.


    Soon, Liz, Athena, and Minerva joined her, each settling into their seats as the hotel staff ced their preferred drinks in front of them with impressive precision. It was almost uncanny how they knew exactly what each girl wanted so early in the morning.


    Well, the answer was simple. Cindy had sent over a PowerPoint presentation in advance, detailing everyone’s preferences, information meticulously gathered by Gerald’s intel department. It was part of the elite-level service reserved for the heiress of their group, after all.


    Meanwhile, Xavier, still keeping a wary eye on Alexandre and Antoine, took the seat beside Hera. He grabbed a cup of coffee, took a sip, and began to eat quietly with the others. Now wasn’t the time to get into a pissing match with Alexandre, not with only thirty-five minutes left before their scheduled departure. It was already 6:15 AM, and the helicopter would arrive at 6:50 sharp.


    This wasn’t their home turf; they couldn’t simply dy a flight or call air traffic control to adjust the airspace like they might back home. Whoever arranged this flight for Hera had clearly gone through all the proper procedures and paperwork tond a helicopter on the Imperial Hotel’s rooftop, something no one even knew was possible.


    Besides, Alexandre was practically the prince of Paris, figuratively speaking. He sat at the top of the social pyramid here. And if Xavier kept provoking him, well... he didn’t even want to imagine the consequences.


    What if Alexandre decided to make things difficult for Hera? He could dy her departure schedule, stall the helicopter, or pull strings behind the scenes. If that happened, Hera might bete for her race, or worse, miss it entirely. That would only hurt her.


    So, Xavier wisely chose to rein in his temper, at least for now. He would wait until Hera had finished her business in this country. After all, once they returned home, Alexandre would no longer be a factor. He’d just be a fleeting love interest, someone who came and went in the blink of an eye.


    Besides, Xavier could tell that Hera hadn’t developed any real feelings for Alexandre yet. And let’s be honest, Paris was Alexandre’s home turf; this is where his family was rooted. It wasn’t like he could just pack up and migrate to their country to chase after her.


    Until then, Xavier didn’t see Alexandre as a serious threat. If anything, he figured Alexandre would end up treating Hera as his "white moonlight", someone he loved but could never have.