All had eaten and drunk their fill, yet no amount of fine dishes or rare wine could quench the growing curiosity in the room.
Though polite conversation flowed and laughter occasionally rippled across the tables, everyone knew there was an unspoken question hovering in the air—Who exactly was Riley Mason?
By the third hour of the feast, even the most patient among them could no longer hide their anticipation.
Anastasia, seated at the head table beside Riley, had noticed the furtive glances, the whispered exchanges, and the way some guests seemed more focused on the mysterious man at her side than on the lavish celebration she had prepared.
At last, she decided not to prolong their suspense.
Rising gracefully from her seat, she let her silken robes fall in perfect folds, the intricate embroidery glinting in the warm glow of crystal lanterns.
Her gaze swept over the gathering—men and women whose words could sway markets, topple rivals, and reshape the city's political tides.
