Chapter 4: The Ball and the Beautiful Lie

Celeste entered like a goddess carved from moonlight.

Her blue hair was pinned in elegant, flowing waves that gleamed like the surface of a frozen lake beneath crystal chandeliers. Draped in silk that matched the soft hues of dusk, she shimmered like the ethereal apparition society whispered about in awe and envy.

On her arm, the Count Adrien Valcourt looked like a man reborn—a silver-haired noble with an icy gaze, softened only when it landed on the woman beside him. Count Adrien the man who controlled the main money flow of the capital, the duke's brother's son. He thought he had everything in life, until he met Celeste.

People turned. They always did.

She smiled, but not too much. Just enough to cause the heart of every woman in the room to ache with inadequacy, and every man’s gaze to linger one second too long. That was the power of Celeste. Her beauty was not just a gift—it was a performance, sharpened into an art.

And tonight, the ballroom was her stage.