I could feel the nervousness making my hands slippery, even in the bright light. Despite Alexander's reluctance, I had insisted on co-hosting this event since it was my gala. The first round of scholarships awarded by the "Thomas Initiative," the organization I had subtly established before anybody knew my identity, will be up for auction tonight. As I smoothed the fabric of my emerald-green gown, I encouraged myself to take a deep breath. The color was striking and out of the ordinary for an heiress, but I had picked it on purpose.Black and blue are not colors I would hide in. I would radiate green, the hue of rebirth and expansion. I allowed my eyes to settle on the elevated dais at the far end of the room, where my father and Alexander stood with courteous but aloof looks. Whether by blood or contract, we were family, and we had to look like one tonight. I started as I felt a gentle touch on my elbow. Uncle Bruce was standing there as I turned around, his silver-gray hair styled
As usual, Alexander was waiting when the elevator doors on my level were open. Like a peace offering, he presented two hot paper cups filled with his black espresso and my favorite jasmine tea. He was surrounded by the gentle glow of the hallway lights, which made his fitted suit seem like armor that I wanted to put on. "Hard day?" he said in a hushed voice. I gritted my teeth. "That is something you could say." He gave me the tea. The strain in my shoulders subsided as I inhaled the fragrant vapor. He nodded down the corridor and said, "Come with me." I trailed behind him to the patio entrance through the quiet suite. Outside, the air was cool, scented faintly with early autumn. Below, the lights of the city gleamed, and the distant buzz of traffic was not oppressive but calming. Alexander escorted me to the unexpected present he had built weeks prior: a wrought-iron seat nestled under a maple bonsai. He gave me a cozy blanket made of cashmere. "For late evenings," he said. I p
Despite the long hours, Alexander's fine gray suit was still well-pressed as he came out of his study. He placed a stack of documents on the coffee table between us, including newspaper articles, board reports, and legal filings. "This afternoon, I had a conversation with your father," he stated in a firm but kind tone. "He wants you to attend tomorrow night's charity gala. It is essential to the reputation of Lancaster Industries. I looked over at him. I am aware that he inquired. However, I do not feel ready to host again so quickly. He scowled. "Your presence will reinforce the authenticity narrative after today's triumph. It will demonstrate your support for both families. I folded my arms. However, I did not choose this life to be shown as a prize. I choose it to assist people—to change things that do not make the news. He clenched his jaw. "To win the game, you sometimes have to act the part." I became enraged. "It sounds just like the world I was trying to get away from."
The penthouse was unbelievably silent when I woke up that morning as if the city itself were holding its breath.The coffee table had a tidy pile of briefing documents, all branded with Reid Industries letterhead, and the curtains were pulled against the early morning light.Naturally, Alexander had already left for another crisis meeting. In an attempt to calm the butterflies in my chest, I made myself a cup of tea. The interview took place today. My double existence was revealed by Ethan's staff only twenty-four hours ago. He had drawn my delicate secret into a tabloid tug-of-war out of desperation. However, Alexander had done something drastic: he had taken charge of the story instead of keeping me hidden. On my iPad, I quickly saw the headline: **"Sophia Lancaster: Authenticity in Action"** Below it was a picture of me in my café uniform, with my blond hair tied back in a ponytail, grinning as I gave a kid a coffee. According to the caption, "Barista Sophia's" earnings went tow
My suit was just pressed when I got to Reid Industries, and I was already planning for eventualities. The faint sound of my footfall as soon as I entered the foyer served as a reminder of how vulnerable we had become. Ethan's antics were no longer an annoyance; rather, they posed a direct risk to Sophia's security and the meticulously maintained incognito she still maintained. Marta, my assistant, greeted me at the elevators with a somber look on her face. "You must see this, sir." She gave me a tablet with a breaking-news push alert on it( "Uncovering the Mysterious Heiress: Barista 'Sophia Thomas' Is not Who She Says She Is") My heart pounded. A murky image from a paparazzo's long-lens photograph accompanied the headline Sophia exiting The Lantern Café, her face vaguely familiar to everyone who had seen her in the boardroom. A source at Lancaster Industries who had "revealed all" was alluded to in the story. I tapped the article open and scowled. It gave details of rumors that S
At the early light, I was seated at my favorite corner table at The Lantern Café, which I had selected when I initially left my opulent life to work as a barista and confidante for coffee, "Sophia Thomas."But I was not pouring lattes or hiding under an apron today. Wearing a cashmere sweater and a fitted pencil skirt that Alexander had given me, I sat tapping at my phone while reading the most recent news that flashed across the screen.**Ethan Carter Makes a Comeback Attempt: According to Sources, He Asks the Lancaster Heiress for Pardon. The video captures Ethan Carter outside the Reid Industries headquarters.My chest constricted. Ethan's face, which used to make my heart skip a beat, glared back at me with a frantic, unkempt expression. He was acting out pity plays and having tantrums in public. The plot would change if I was not careful: *vicious Alexander*, the vicious villain; *poor Ethan*He betrayed every woman.I attempted to calm my breathing and closed my eyes. Over the la