)

Grayson took a moment to compose himself, adjusting his tailored suit and running his fingers through his perfectly styled hair, a touch of nerves creeping in. He emerged from the limousine, the flashing lights of the paparazzi cameras illuminating the night sky. With a confident stride, he stepped outside onto the red carpet; the evening breeze gently tousled his locks, but he maintained his composure, projecting an air of effortless elegance.

"Grayson Hawthorne!" a reporter's voice rose above the rest. "Grayson Hawthorn! Is it true that you and Avery Kylie Grambs are dating?"

For a moment, Grayson's footsteps faltered, his thoughts momentarily consumed by memories of Avery, their time at the wine cellar and their kiss. "You had to kiss her, or she would've exposed Toby," he reminded himself. "Avery is just a friend."

Convinced, with a deep breath, Grayson collected himself and decided to keep walking, ignoring the reporter. He quickened his pace, gracefully dodging the unwelcome cameras and sidestepping any probing interviews. He made his way into the ballroom, and his eyes fell upon an empty table tucked away in a cosy corner, bathed in a soft glow from the chandelier above.

As Grayson settled into his seat at the empty table, he gestured for the waiter and ordered a glass of rich, red wine. Sipping on his drink, he took in the panoramic view of the ballroom while the hum of conversations filled his ears. It seemed that everyone was buzzing about Mason Valentine and his highly anticipated new book, yet the author himself was nowhere to be seen, which struck Grayson as amusing.

Though a few curious glances from intrigued girls found their way to him, Grayson paid them little mind, his focus on maintaining a low profile among the high society. However, his solitude was short-lived as an elderly gentleman decided to join him at the table.

"Excuse me, son," the man said, addressing Grayson with a warm smile. "Mind if I join you? Looks like we're both here to escape the crowd, eh?"

Grayson nodded, motioning for him to take a seat across from him. "Of course, please do," he replied, gesturing toward the vacant chair. Grayson recognized him as Arthur Burberry, one of Florida's wealthiest real estate tycoons. He had seen Arthur at his grandfather's charity auctions, often accompanied by his daughter, Rose. Arthur settled into his seat and ordered a glass of red wine, then turned his attention back to Grayson.

"I must say, I knew your grandfather well," he remarked, his voice tinged with nostalgia. "Tobias Hawthorne was a formidable man. If money couldn't buy what he desired, well, there wasn't anything money couldn't buy him," Arthur chuckled, taking a sip of his wine and leaned back comfortably in his chair.

"Yes, he was an extraordinary man," Grayson acknowledged, a small smile gracing his lips. "I aspire to carry on his legacy in my own way."

Arthur nodded, taking another sip of his wine. "No need to be modest, son. We both know the Hawthorne name holds significant weight around here," he whispered, leaning closer to Grayson. "But tell me, Grayson Hawthorne, what brings you to this event? I assume it's not merely you are an admirer of Mason Valentine's work."

Grayson chuckled lightly, running his fingers along the rim of his wine glass. Before he could respond, the grand doors of the ballroom swung open. All eyes turned towards a girl with black hair that covered her face, her figure wrapped in a form-fitting midnight blue dress.

She stumbled clumsily, her drunken state evident as she struggled to maintain her balance. Each faltering step she took elicited sighs of disappointment from the crowd, who had been expecting Mason Valentine. Conversations resumed, and the girl's presence was largely ignored. Yet Grayson couldn't look away, there was something about her that he found strangely familiar.

"Ah, a woman with ambition," Arthur remarked, raising his glass toward the girl on the floor.

As the girl gradually regained her balance, her hands pushed her hair away from her face, revealing familiar yet sorrowful, breathtaking blue eyes.

Grayson's voice escaped his lips almost instinctively, his body moving toward her without a second thought, propelled by an inexplicable force. "Alison?"