In a mid-tier hotel room in a part of J-city, Adele stood tensed by the window, her knuckles white as she gripped the windowsill. She was waiting, her entire body thrumming with anxiousness for a call. She had hired a team of mercenaries, not to kill Miller this time, but to bring her down and stage a scene. To complete it, she had hired a paparazzi too, to capture it all, ready to frame Miller as a member of a criminal mercenary group. It was a desperate plan to change the public's view of Devion's new wife and crash his marriage in the most humiliating way possible.
But hours had gone by; the restlessness within her was gnawing. 'Had it failed again?' she thought, but just as the thought solidified into despair, her phone finally beeped. She snatched it up, her heart hammering, only to see a two-word message from the paparazzi: "Operation failed."
She screamed with rage as she slammed the phone in her hand against the wall with all her strength, the device shattering into pieces, plastic shards flying across the carpet. She had spent half of her remaining savings on this operation. While a part of her knew she would never get Devion back, her sole, burning desire was to destroy the happiness he had found without her. Now, even that petty victory was denied her. To add salt to the wound, most of her wealthy side pieces and former admirers were now ignoring her calls. Only the desperate and the poor, those who could offer her nothing, were still picking up. She couldn't continue living like this.
Just then, her mother, Lady Cecily, walked in, her face etched with weary resignation. "I was able to secure us a house," she announced, her voice devoid of its former aristocratic light. "It's in downtown J-city. A three-bedroom, fully furnished apartment."
Adele turned to her, her face filled with disgust. "Downtown J-city? How do you expect me to live there? Are we that poor already? Don't you have any of your men you can talk to?" she questioned. She refused to accept the reality that her entire world had crumbled. She was Adele Williams, the Williams jewel, Devion Montgomery's fiancée, the star model who needed no one, and the woman who could effortlessly wrap any man around her finger. She was rich, blessed, and beautiful. How had she lost everything? She didn't deserve this suffering.
"You have to manage for the time being, until I am able to recover at least," Lady Cecily said, her tone exhausted. "We can't keep draining our funds on this hotel."
"You can go stay in Downtown J-city," Adele spat, her words filled with anger. "I am fine here, and I will definitely be able to recover everything I lost on my own," she declared with gritted teeth, trying to maintain her former confidence.
Lady Cecily simply shook her head, a gesture of surrendering. "You can always call me if you need my help with anything... except money," she said flatly, and turned to walk out, closing the door behind her.
The moment she was gone, Adele sneered in deep disgust. She waited a beat, then hurried to her designer handbag, retrieving a cheap phone she used for secret dealings. Her fingers flew across the screen as she messaged a contact. "How much would you sell the invite to Old Luther's banquet to me for?"
It took a few minutes, but the reply came. "$10,000."
"Bastard," Adele hissed, her grip tightening on the phone. She typed back, "$8000."
The response was immediate and final. "10,000. That's it."
Left with no choice and seething with humiliation and anger, Adele typed "agreed" to the deal. She almost smashed this phone too, in her fury, but remembering it was her last lifeline, she forced herself to place it gently on the table, her entire body trembling with suppressed rage.
---
In another part of the city, high on top of a skyscraper in a luxurious penthouse, a different scene was unfolding. A man dressed in the familiar brown uniform stood at attention in a big and empty room with a central partition. His name was Jackson, an assistant and informant here.
"Sir, she has unlocked more of her powers," he reported to the figure hidden behind the partition.
The red-haired man from across the ocean stepped out from behind the partition. He was naked, water dripping down his skin as if he had just emerged from a bath. Despite the sight, Jackson maintained a straight face, his gaze fixed on a point on the far wall.
"Good for me," The red-haired man said, his signature devilish smile spreading across his face. He was Alexander Hamilton, the son of a wealthy and powerful family from across the ocean, and his sole purpose in J-city was to retrieve Miller, his supposed fiancée. He walked to a sofa, grabbed a black bathrobe, and slipped it on with a fluid movement.
"Prepare the gifts and the invite to the Luther's banquet," Alexander commanded, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. "It's time to be the best fiancé of the year."
Jackson replied respectfully. "Yes, sir."
Alexander picked up a crystal glass of deep red wine and walked to the floor-to-ceiling window, gazing out at the sprawling city lights. "She's outstanding, isn't she?" he mused, not really expecting an answer.
"Yes, sir," Jackson replied from behind him.
"Imagine everyone on earth like that," Alexander continued, his voice taking on a dreamy tone. "Beautifully outstanding—how perfect would the world be?" He downed the entire glass of wine in one swift motion. "I really can't wait to bring her back to the Kynastorms; I can't wait for the project to begin; I can hardly wait for the outstanding Earth."
The excitement in his voice was bright and somewhat chilling, and he waved a dismissive hand without turning around, "You can leave."
Jackson bowed and silently exited the room, leaving Alexander alone in his penthouse, lost in his grand dream.