Fiona's eyes twitched, irritation and disbelief flickering across her features.
"Yeah so?"
"He's my cousin," Hazel said casually, leaning back as if it were the most ordinary statement in the world.
Fiona froze, her jaw dropping as words deserted her. "No way that cold, emotionless, humiliating man is your cousin?" Disbelief and shock washed over her, her mind struggling to process the revelation, leaving her momentarily speechless.
"Hahaha, girl yeah, Manson is definitely cold," Hazel said, a flicker of surprise flashing across her face. "Not just cold, he's scary. You need to be careful. But how on earth was he willing to get engaged to you? Or do your parents have something on him?"
Not only was Manson ruthlessly cold, but he was a legend among players every woman would kill for even a fleeting glance from him. Yet he moved with precision, choosing only women of impeccable class, elegance, and refinement, as if the world itself bent to his standards.
"Darling," Hazel added, her voice low and urgent, "his standards for women are insanely high class. Honestly I'm surprised you even got him hooked."
Fiona's hands clenched into fists at her sides, frustration and desperation flaring in her chest. "I don't care about his standards or his nonsense. I want out of this engagement. Since he's your cousin, can you help me talk to him?"
Hazel froze, her eyes widening, hesitation washing over her features. She reached for her soda, taking a long gulp as if to steady herself. "Uh that's one hell of a problem," she admitted, her voice tight.
"What do you mean?" Fiona pressed, anxiety threading her tone.
Hazel's shoulders rose in a subtle shrug, betraying her nerves. "I… I'm still kind of scared of him," she confessed, her fingers curling around the soda. "But here's what we'll do. He's coming to my birthday party tomorrow. I'll create a space for you two to talk just the two of you. How does that sound?"
Fiona's heart pounded, tension and relief warring within her. Hazel was giving her a chance, a sliver of control in an impossible situation. She nodded, bracing for the storm ahead.
"You haven't even touched your burger," Hazel said, pointing at the plate with mock accusation.
Fiona blinked, then picked it up. She took a bite, chewed slowly, swallowed and only then spoke. "Okay. Fine. But promise me this." Her gaze lifted, sharp and unwavering. "If I can't pull this off tomorrow, you will help me." The firmness in her voice left no space for refusal.
Hazel burst into laughter. "Hahaha, sure!" she said, teeth flashing in an exaggerated grin, her eyes sparkling with mischief.
Even as Hazel promised to help with Manson, she found herself silently praying that Fiona would succeed. Manson was not an easy man to confront, not even for his own cousin. If Fiona could sever that engagement, she could finally shift her focus to the real battle ahead.
***
By the following evening, Fiona stepped out of the bathroom just as her phone lit up with messages from Alexander. He had agreed to attend Hazel's birthday party, blissfully unaware that Fiona's plan was already in motion. A faint, knowing smirk curved her lips as she read his reply.
A knock echoed against the door.
"Yes, come in," Fiona said calmly.
Fallyn entered, two gowns draped over her arm, her excitement barely contained. "Which one should I wear?"
Without lifting her gaze, Fiona gestured lazily toward one of the gowns. "That one."
Fallyn frowned. "You didn't even look. How do you know this one's better?"
Fiona finally turned, her expression unreadable, her voice smooth and indifferent. "Because they're all beautiful," she said coolly. "And you'll look beautiful in any of them."
The words hung in the air pleasant on the surface, sharp beneath. Fiona turned away again, her thoughts already elsewhere. Tonight wasn't about gowns or appearances. It was about control. And this time, she intended to take hers back.
Fiona swept through her wardrobe before pulling out a lemon-colored peplum gown. It wasn't new, but it wasn't old either, just familiar, understated, and hers.
Soon, both sisters were dressed to perfection, their makeup immaculate and their hair pulled into sleek, polished ponytails. Fiona's lemon peplum dress hugged her figure like it had been tailored for her alone, the short hemline accentuating her graceful frame. A delicate necklace rested against her pale skin, catching the light and reflecting the soft brilliance of the gown. She looked radiant effortlessly so her presence was luminous in a way that quietly outshone everything around her, a beauty Fallyn could never truly compete with.
They stepped outside to find Alexander waiting in his car, the engine already humming. He cast them a brief glance before stepping out, opening the front passenger door for Fiona and then the back door for Fallyn. Fallyn shot him a sharp glare, her irritation barely concealed.
Moments later, Alexander slid into the driver's seat and pulled away, steering them toward the birthday venue as city lights streaked past the windows. Inside the car, anticipation hung heavy in the air, thick, silent, and unspoken.
The moment Fiona stepped inside, her eyes found Hazel. She moved toward her without hesitation, unaware that another pair of eyes had already locked onto her from across the room.
Manson watched them approach, a slow smirk curling at the corner of his lips.
"This is getting interesting," he murmured.
Miss Elena Hazel's mother had spared no expense, securing the city's most prestigious private hall for the birthday celebration. Only a select few were invited families of wealth and influence whose mere presence spoke volumes. The Thames family and other powerful dynasties already occupied their seats, the tables set with painstaking elegance. Every chair, every centerpiece, every gleam of crystal whispered luxury, signaling a world where power and privilege were the true guests of honor.
Fiona, Fallyn, and Alexander moved gracefully toward the banquet setup, their footsteps almost swallowed by the soft murmur of wealth around them. Hazel leaned close to Fiona, her breath brushing against her ear. "Soon," she whispered, her voice low but urgent, "I've already persuaded Manson to slip away to a quiet place. You'll get your moment with him, just be ready."
A spark of anticipation flickered in Fiona's chest. The opulent air around them seemed to grow heavier, charged with secrets, whispered schemes, and possibilities yet to unfold as Hazel drifted away to greet her other guests.
Manson's unwavering gaze rested on Fiona across the grandly swept table, sharp and unyielding until his uncle's voice pierced the moment.
"Congratulations on your project's success," Khalid said, warmth threading his tone. "I never expected such brilliance. Truly, you are talented."
Manson inclined his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Thank you, Uncle. I couldn't have done it alone. Anchoring the project was crucial, and your influence in France shaped the business more than you realize."
Khalid leaned back, chuckling thoughtfully. "Jewelry isn't an ordinary business. I sometimes wonder how our great-grandfather thrived in France all those years ago."
"He had raw talent," Manson replied confidently. "Clearly, that talent runs in the family you proved it, Uncle."
Deep, genuine laughter rumbled from Khalid. Manson's eyes flicked toward Clara, a playful spark in them. "Isn't that right, Aunt?"
Clara's soft chuckle filled the space between them. "Haha… yes. You both have the gift. Truly exceptional."
The Thames lineage had been steeped in wealth for centuries. Their progenitors built an empire that spanned generations: a century-old jewelry dynasty established in France by Manson's paternal great-grandfather, and a thriving entertainment conglomerate founded in the United States by his maternal grandmother both standing as testaments to the family's enduring influence.
The room seemed to hum with unspoken pride, the weight of legacy and ambition pressing down like a tangible force, a reminder that this was more than business; it was heritage.
"Manson, when are you going to bring a woman home? You're a well-established man. Don't you want me to see my grandkids?" Khalid asked, concern threading his voice.
Manson pinched the bridge of his nose, fighting back a smirk. "Ah, Uncle, why am I being emotionally blackmailed? Aunt, intervene before this goes too far."
Clara shot him a sharp look, though a trace of amusement lingered in her eyes.
"Honestly, your uncle isn't wrong. We want a grandchild. You're not getting any younger, and don't think that charming face of yours can deceive us forever."
"Alright, alright," Manson said, his voice calm, almost teasing, as he inclined his head. "When I'm ready, I'll bring someone home. No rush."
Alexander leaned toward Fiona, his fingers brushing hers with a teasing gentleness. A mischievous glint lit his eyes. "Excuse me, babe I need a quick pit stop." He rose, the air shifting around him, and vanished, leaving behind a trace of warmth.
Just a few minutes later, Fallyn rose from her seat.
"Fin, please I need to use the restroom," she said, waving briefly before hurrying off.
Fiona watched Fallyn vanish from the room. Something about her sister's hurried glance felt off. This might be her chance.
She followed without delay, weaving through the crowd until she reached the women's restroom. She pushed the door open and stepped inside, heat rising in her chest but there was no sign of Fallyn.
Her heart skipped a beat at how peaceful the moment was, a calm that felt dangerously fragile.