Chapter 1: Lexi in Motion
Lexi Thompson held her phone between shoulder and ear, one hand steering the wheel, the other scribbling notes with a chewed-up pen. "Yes, Mrs. Duvall, I understand—but peonies are out of season, and flying them in from the Netherlands will cost—"
The client interrupted with a high-pitched scoff. "I didn't ask for a weather report, Alexandra. I asked for peonies. White. Full bloom. Like hope..
Lexi mouthed a silent scream, her eyes flicking to the red light ahead. "I'll make it happen," she said sweetly, though her bank account screamed in protest. "I'll send updated costs tonight."
She hung up and slumped in her seat, tapping the steering wheel to a beat only she could hear. She was running on caffeine, dry shampoo, and the stubborn belief that this was all leading somewhere. Somewhere big.
Her phone buzzed again. A calendar alert:
Rent due — 3 days. Balance: $74.29
"Perfect," she muttered, pulling into the tiny office she rented above a bakery that always smelled like betrayal and croissants.
The office wasn't much—just exposed brick, a desk with a wobbly leg, and a vision board littered with magazine cutouts and sticky notes. One read:
"One day you'll throw a party the world talks about."
She sank into her chair and opened her email, scanning past invoices and venue requests. Then she saw it.
Subject: Invitation to Submit – Blackwood Foundation Gala Pitch
Lexi blinked.
The Blackwood Gala. The event. High society, televised, luxury with a conscience. Held every five years, run by the elusive Blackwood family. It was legendary.
She clicked the message with trembling fingers.
> We are inviting select independent planners to submit a concept for this year's Blackwood Foundation Gala.
Finalists will present to the board next week.
Selected pitch will oversee full execution, reporting directly to CEO Ethan Blackwood.
Lexi sat back, the words "Ethan Blackwood" buzzing in her brain like champagne bubbles laced with cyanide.
Her first instinct: There's no way. She was barely staying afloat, juggling weddings, corporate launches, and clients who thought "budget" was a dirty word.
But then she looked up at her vision board. At that sticky note. At the clipping of a Blackwood Gala article from five years ago she'd once printed as motivation.
Lexi stood, her heart racing. She didn't come this far to flinch now.
She opened her
laptop and began typing.