I Don’t Wait, I Take.

Though it was just a few blocks away, she needed to appear in a car as part of the packaging. By the time she stepped out of the car at the grand entrance of Three Star, the event was already in full swing. 

The golden glow of chandeliers poured through the glass ballroom, casting reflections against the night sky. The music, the laughter, the murmurs of business and politics—it was all the same as she remembered.

The doorman barely had time to acknowledge her before she strode past him, slipping through the entrance with the ease of someone who had done it a thousand times before. She hadn't needed an invitation. Her name and face alone could get her through any door in this city.

Inside the ballroom, elegance and ambition filled the air. Women in stunning gowns moved gracefully through the crowd, their jewelry sparkling under the lights. Men in sharp tuxedos exchanged quiet conversations, discussing business and their influences over glasses of whiskey.

Shantel adjusted her dress which she had chosen to fit the role she was here to play tonight.

It was a sleek, black silk dress that hugged her figure perfectly, catching the light with every step. A high slit revealed just enough leg to turn heads, while delicate lace traced the deep neckline, adding a touch of elegance. A simple diamond necklace rested against her collarbone, complementing the bold red of her lips and hair.

As she entered the ballroom, conversations slowed, and eyes turned her way. Some admired, some speculated, while some shameless men who only made decisions based on their third legs winked lewdly at her. 

Sweeping her gaze across the ballroom, she caught sight of Selene and Maggie almost immediately. They were near the grand staircase, engaged in conversation with some high-ranking officials. 

Claudia was nowhere to be seen, but that wasn't surprising. She was likely lingering at the edges, keeping a quieter presence.

And then there was her— Jessica Hale… the soul of the gathering tonight. 

As always, she was standing at the heart of it all, dressed in a blood-red gown that was tailored to perfection. 

At the moment she was laughing just as Shantel had envisaged even before stepping foot into the hall. As always, her posture was regal and her expression which she had used to bewitch countless men over the years was effortlessly captivating. Around her, admirers and skeptics alike hung onto her every word.

There was nothing she hated than being around such fake and boring lives. 

Shantel knew the exact moment her mother noticed her.

Jessica didn't falter or pause in her actions. She simply lifted a champagne flute as a subtle signal of acknowledgment, before returning to her conversation. But from where she was standing, which was not too far away, Shantel could still discern a note of disappointment in her expression. 

Very classic of Jessica Hale aka, Queen Jezebel.

Shantel exhaled slowly and made her way toward the bar, ignoring the curious glances that followed her.

She had barely taken a sip of her drink when a familiar voice cut through the noise.

"Well, well."

Shantel's grip tightened slightly around her glass before she turned.

As Shantel turned, she was met with the strikingly smug expression of George Summers, CEO of SummTech Electronics—one of the leading luxury tech companies in the country. 

He stood there, effortlessly handsome in a dark navy tuxedo, his polished confidence radiating as he swirled the whiskey in his glass. His sharp blue eyes swept over her, slow and assessing, before settling on her face with a knowing smirk.

"Well, well," he repeated in a voice rich with amusement. "If it isn't the elusive Shantel Hale. I was beginning to think you'd forgotten how to show up at these things."

Shantel arched a brow, bringing her glass to her lips without breaking eye contact. "And yet, here I am," she said smoothly. "Tragic for you, I'm sure."

George chuckled, tilting his head slightly as if studying a rare artifact. "Not tragic. Pleasantly surprising, I'd rather say." 

He took a step closer, his cologne—woody with a hint of spice was just as annoyingly refined as she remembered. 

"You've been avoiding your mother for years, and suddenly, you appear at her grand little gathering today? Either hell has frozen over, or you've finally realized it's easier to play by her rules."

Shantel scoffed, setting her glass down on the counter. "You always did talk too much." She let her gaze flick over him, unimpressed. "Still the same, I see. Arrogant, overconfident, and convinced that you know everything."

George grinned, clearly entertained rather than offended. "And you're still as impossible as ever." 

He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. "Tell me, are you finally here to claim your birthright? Or just to make sure Mommy Dearest doesn't forget you exist?"

Shantel's jaw tightened, but she refused to let him see even a flicker of irritation. She had dealt with men like George all her life—powerful, entitled, and always assuming they had the upper hand. She had walked away from him before, and she could just as easily do it again. No big deal.

She picked up her drink and took a slow sip. "You're as predictable as ever, George," she murmured. "Still circling like a vulture, waiting for an opportunity to sink your claws into something that isn't yours."

He laughed, unfazed. "Oh, I don't wait. I take." His gaze dropped briefly to her lips before returning to her eyes. "But you know that, don't you?"

Shantel smirked, tilting her head. "That's cute. but does that line actually work on women who don't know you?"

George let out a deep chuckle, shaking his head. "God, I've missed that sharp tongue of yours." He leaned against the bar, intentionally relaxing his posture against the wooden frame. "Tell me, Shantel, when exactly did you decide I wasn't good enough for you? Was it before or after your mother tried to set us up?"

She tapped a manicured finger against her glass, pretending to think. "Hmm. Probably the moment you walked into the room."

George laughed again. His laughter was low and rich, but his expression remained unreadable, not that Shantel cared a hoot about his thoughts, anyway. 

"That's rather harsh." He studied her for a moment before murmuring as if to himself, "You know, we could've made a great team."

Shantel scoffed, crossing one leg over the other. "Oh, please. You're just another man who thinks I should be flattered by his attention."

He lifted his drink in a mock toast. "And yet, you haven't walked away."

She rolled her eyes, about to fire back a retort, when a sudden shift in the atmosphere caught her attention.