CHAPTER 165: JUST MINGLE
The venue of the party was beautifully decorated. From the very first glance, the birthday celebration screamed opulence.
Outside, a luxurious deep red carpet stretched from the grand golden gate right up to the entrance, bordered by brass stanchions and thick velvet ropes. Elegant hostesses dressed in black and gold gowns stood gracefully on either side, ushering guests in with warm, practiced smiles.
Photographers and paparazzi lined the carpet, flashes going off non-stop as though it were a movie premiere. To the side, a customized backdrop stood proudly, bearing the celebrant's initials, age, and a golden crown beckoning guests to pose like royalty. Anyone who passed by couldn't help but gasp in awe, pausing to take pictures as the cameras continued to click wildly.
The paparazzi were relentless, pacing the red carpet and whispering among themselves.
"Who's behind this decor? It's too exquisite not to be someone big," one murmured, peering toward the entrance like they could summon the designer with sheer will.
But Diana wasn't about to give them that satisfaction, at least not yet.
Let them stew in curiosity. Let the anticipation grow like wildfire. Tonight was about control, and she had it right where she wanted it.
But if the outside was impressive, then the inside was opulence refined.
The grand double doors opened into a hall that looked like something pulled from a royal fantasy. Golden lighting spilled over the room like soft honey, casting a warm glow that flattered every skin tone and made the air feel magical.
Guests were first welcomed under a lavish floral archway—cascading with white orchids, deep red roses, and gold-dusted ivy—before stepping into the main space.
A soft orchestral symphony hummed in the background, setting the tone for what felt like an evening in paradise. The guests' eyes widened as they took in the grandeur around them: towering chandeliers rained crystals from the sky, mirrored walls danced with light like cut diamonds, and plush velvet drapes framed each wall in shades of royal blue and antique gold.
At the heart of it all, the birthday celebrant's throne sat boldly on an elevated stage, framed by glittering lights and lush floral arrangements. Behind it, a shimmering backdrop spelled out his name in elegant cursive gold letters, glowing softly like a signature in the sky.
Nearby, a five-tier cake stood like a masterpiece, each layer draped in edible gold, adorned with delicate sugar flowers, and topped with sparklers waiting to dazzle. It wasn't just dessert. It was an announcement.
Once inside, Diana smoothly extricated herself from her brothers' protective arms. "I have a job to do," she told them with a smile that brokered no argument, then disappeared into the crowd with effortless grace.
Jason watched her vanish into the crowd. "Anyway, what could go wrong?" he said to their father and Jackson as they began to mingle.
Famous last words.
Meanwhile, Diana met up with the girls backstage in a discreet corner of the hall. The mood was sharp, focused, this was it.
They huddled in close, pulling up the plan they'd gone over the day before like it was a war map.
The Plan:
"On the day of the event, I'll get invitations for each of you," Diana had said. "You'll come with your business cards. And since I'm on the guest list committee, networking and sweet-talking the right people shouldn't be too hard."
"We'll use this event to create buzz," she added. "Social media blasts, press drops, paparazzi presence… we milk every angle."
Sandra had leaned in. "And the guests? How do we draw them in?"
Diana smirked. "That's where your charm comes in. Flirt, impress, dazzle, whatever it takes. This is our moment."
But there was one flaw in their plan, a secret Diana never wanted to reach Toby Champion. That she was married.
Valerie nudged her now, snapping her back. "So… are we still taking off our rings?"
Sandra looked at Diana too, waiting.
It was a loaded question. Diana hesitated.
"Well, our husbands aren't here tonight," Sandra pressed. "We could move more freely without the rings. You know how these elite men think… a ring is a warning sign."
"But our rings… they're not just jewelry," Grace interjected quietly. "They're our identity."
"Yeah, and what's identity if our businesses are in shambles?" Sandra shot back, her tone sharp. "This is survival."
Diana looked at each of them—strong women, wives, dreamers. She felt torn between duty and opportunity. The line was blurry. But one thing was clear, if they didn't act tonight, they might never get another chance like this.
"Alright," she said. "We'll take them off but keep them close. If we spot our husbands, we slip them back on. Agreed?"
Everyone nodded.
With that, rings were quietly removed and tucked into bags and clutches like guilty secrets. A quiet shift swept over the group, and they scattered across the room with new personas—unattached, untamed, unstoppable.
The networking began.
It wasn't easy at first. Some guests gave them skeptical looks, mistaking them for social climbers or worse, gold diggers. But they pushed through. One by one, they turned the tide. Cards exchanged, flirty laughs floated, wine glasses clinked.
They had fire in their eyes.
And who doesn't love a challenge?
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John Walker arrived at the party venue flanked by Cassandra and Belle, stepping out of his luxurious black Prada jeep with calculated grace. Both women clung to his arms like proud ornaments as they strutted down the red carpet in unspoken competition.
Since Cassandra was already popular among the socialites and paparazzi, the camera frenzy began the moment she stepped out. Reporters screamed her name, flashes burst like fireworks, and camera shutters clicked nonstop as she waved, smiled, and posed confidently in her handmade silhouette gown. She looked absolutely stunning, elegant and poised like royalty.
Belle didn't look bad herself, but even she had to admit Cassandra was a star in her own league tonight. No matter how hard she tried, she just couldn't shine as brightly.
One of the bolder reporters broke past the barricade, attempting an impromptu interview. The security moved swiftly to stop him, but Cassandra raised her hand in a soft plea.
"It's fine," she said, her voice calm and charming. "Let him through."
The reporter's face lit up like he'd won a lottery. Interviews during an event were strictly off-limits, but who cared when Cassandra Movich said yes?
Reporter: "Ma'am, who are you wearing tonight?"
Cassandra: "My favorite dressmaker, of course, Eva Duchess."
There were audible gasps among the crowd. Eva Duchess herself had been spotted entering earlier, and now it made sense; the craftsmanship, the fit, the flair. It was perfection.
Reporter: "And the man by your side, who does he belong to? You… or her?" he added, flicking his eyes toward Belle with a sly smile.
Cassandra gave a light laugh that never touched her eyes.
Cassandra: "He's with my friend, Belle. You all know who my man is."
That cryptic response triggered chaos.
Another reporter shouted: "Wait, could it be James Deniro Alfred?"
The crowd gasped, heads snapping toward Cassandra. Who didn't know that name? The mogul. The mystery. The man who didn't just make headlines, he was the headline.
But Cassandra only laughed again, offering no confirmation or denial. She slipped her hand into John's and led him toward the entrance with the elegance of a queen, leaving the press in a frenzy behind her.
Inside the hall, John turned to both women.
"Once I get our plan in motion, I'll let you know," he said casually. "For now, just mingle. The night is young, and the rich are everywhere."
He smirked, then winked at Belle before striding off.
Belle's cheeks instantly flushed crimson. She watched him walk away like he'd cast a spell over her.
Cassandra watched her with narrowed eyes and shook her head.
"You're completely gone, Belle."
Belle laughed, biting her lip. "Says the woman who's already been gone and returned."
Cassandra allowed a soft smile. "Touché."
Then she straightened, eyes gleaming. "Well, what do you say we go mingle? We can't stand around waiting for fate to do the talking."
Belle nodded quickly. "Let's do it."
They grabbed flutes of champagne from a passing waiter and clinked their glasses together before disappearing into the glittering crowd.