Chapter 98 – The White Knight
The London West Hollywood Hotel in Beverly Hills—nestled between the glitz of Hollywood and the affluence of Beverly Hills—is best known for its lavishly decorated ballroom.
To make the event even more glamorous, the organizers had somehow convinced the local police department to dispatch mounted officers to escort the ball.
Yes, real mounted police, the kind that ride tall horses. Never mind that they were slower than their motorcycle-riding counterparts…
As Max and Caroline galloped toward the ball on horseback, they were promptly stopped by two Black mounted officers.
"Whoa there, ladies. This street is off-limits. And while it's called a road, it doesn't mean your horse belongs on it. Gonna need to see your licenses," said one, eyeing them with suspicion. "Assuming you remembered to bring them along before your little trip to Candyland."
Caroline stayed seated atop her horse and leaned forward, covering her modest chest with one arm and smiling sweetly. "Hello, officers. We're on our way to the ball. Could you possibly help us watch our horses?"
Max quickly added, "You don't need to waste time testing us for alcohol. We're not drunk, and this isn't some wild bachelorette scavenger hunt. Our car broke down in South Central, so we rode all the way here from Hollywood Boulevard."
The taller officer let out a low whistle. "You rode from Hollywood Boulevard? That's actually badass."
His shorter partner rolled his eyes and muttered, "Yeah… also illegal."
"Please, handsome officers~" Caroline clasped her hands together in a pleading gesture.
Perhaps feeling generous due to his height advantage, the taller officer finally relented. "Alright, we can help—"
"No way, Dave!" the shorter one interrupted. "We're on duty!"
Caroline spread her hands dramatically and sighed. "Gentlemen, we're already late. With all due respect, we don't have time to play Good Cop, Bad Cop."
Max chimed in with perfect comedic timing, pointing to both men: "No, you're Hot Cop and Super Hot Cop!"
The taller officer licked his lips and looked smug, while the shorter one gave him a sideways glance and a smirk before turning back to the girls. "Alright, alright. We'll help. Let us help you down first."
The tall officer, eyeing Max's cleavage, shoved aside his partner's hand and growled, "I'll help the one in the low-cut dress."
Though they clearly heard that, Max and Caroline pretended not to, gracefully dismounting with the officers' help. Lifting their skirts slightly, they jogged away while tossing a cheerful, "Thanks, Hot Cop and Super Hot Cop!"
Watching them go, the taller officer smirked. "You know I'm Super Hot Cop, right?"
The short one scoffed and pointed at his chest. "Please. You seen me in sunglasses? I'm light-years ahead of you."
Just then, a tall, imposing figure appeared behind them. "Sorry, but the title of Hot Cop and Super Hot Cop belongs to me."
Ron casually tossed a badge into the shorter officer's hands. A quick glance at the credentials had the man stiffening instantly and snapping into a salute. "Sir!"
He nudged his partner and whispered, "IRS," which instantly got the taller cop to stand at attention as well.
Unlike Max, Ron didn't need to show any cleavage to get top-tier treatment.
Ron took back his badge and handed over a key. "Would you mind looking after my car? It's parked up the road where your blockade is set up."
"Yes, sir!" the short officer replied nervously.
Because he was driving, Ron had been forced to take a detour thanks to a cursed one-way street. He'd parked his car at the entrance of the closed-off street and jogged the rest of the way.
So, even though he arrived later than Max and Caroline, watching the two girls' backs as they walked into the venue made him feel he was right on time. He straightened his sharp suit and strolled toward the ballroom entrance.
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Ballroom Entrance
"Max, I'm amazed you can move so freely in a floor-length gown," Caroline said, genuinely impressed.
Max replied, "I used to work at a medieval-themed restaurant wearing a maid outfit. Compared to balancing trays of turkey legs and beer, this is nothing."
Caroline glanced nervously at the registration table and quickly ducked behind Max. "The sign-in's over there. You lead, I'll follow. I'm the most hated woman in all of L.A., remember?"
To be fair, just showing up here had already taken every ounce of courage she had. In Los Angeles, no name was more scandal-ridden than the Channing family's.
"So I'm the human shield now?" Max raised an eyebrow.
Caroline made a motion over Max's chest. "Well, you're more… 'equipped' up top. That should shield us."
Max rolled her eyes.
Suddenly, Caroline crouched down, clutching Max's waist.
Startled, Max threw up her hands and turned to look behind her. "Is someone pulling a gun?! I knew something was gonna go down!"
Caroline looked forward from her crouched position and whispered, "No. I just saw them. The couple who got my dad thrown in prison."
Fortunately, that couple didn't notice Caroline's presence. They passed through security and entered the venue without incident, allowing Caroline to finally exhale in relief.
Before she knew it, she was next in line.
Behind the check-in table sat a chubby redhead, who looked up and asked, "Can I have your name, please?"
"Caroline… Channing," she replied, her voice dropping significantly when she said her last name—so much so that it was nearly inaudible.
The redhead raised an eyebrow and tilted her head, clearly not impressed. "Sorry, didn't catch that. Could you say your name again?"
"Caroline… Channing," she repeated, barely louder.
The woman gave her a sideways glance, leaning in again. "Still didn't hear you."
At this point, it was obvious—if the first two times had been genuine confusion, the third was pure performance. Caroline had raised her voice noticeably, but it wasn't enough to satisfy the redhead, who was now clearly enjoying the moment.
Whispers rippled through the line. The infamous surname had already drawn a few angry glances from people nearby. Caroline felt like she was burning under a spotlight.
In that moment, she swore—aside from the day her father was arrested, and the day she was kicked out of her mansion—this might be the most humiliating experience of her life.
And just like before, she silently prayed for a white knight to come crashing through the ceiling to rescue her from it all.
Swallowing her pride, Caroline leaned forward, forced a smile, and raised her voice just enough:
"Caroline… Channing."
The redhead, now visibly annoyed—though Caroline couldn't tell how much of it was real or exaggerated—snapped, "What's your deal? Just say your name!"
Her voice cut sharply through the air.
Heads turned. Almost everyone at the entrance was now staring at Caroline.
And she wanted nothing more than to disappear.