Chapter 3: The Unveiling of the Sovereign
Victoria blinked, momentarily confused by the sheer venom in Julian’s voice. "I... I spilled wine on her. To teach her a lesson about showing up to a high-society event looking like a disgrace. Mr. Sterling, surely you agree she doesn't belong here?"
Julian ignored Victoria entirely. He took three long, hurried strides toward Alera. To the absolute horror and bewilderment of everyone in the room, the powerful, untouchable Julian Sterling bowed his head deeply in front of the stained, Indigenous woman.
"My lady," Julian said, his voice trembling with a mixture of reverence and terror. "I am deeply, profoundly sorry. I failed to protect your privacy. I will have this woman removed and blacklisted immediately."
The ballroom erupted into a chaotic flurry of panicked whispers. Victoria froze, her mocking smirk melting into absolute, paralyzing horror. Her breath caught in her throat. My lady?
Alera raised a hand, a simple, elegant gesture that silenced Julian instantly. She looked at Victoria, whose face had gone completely drained of color.
"You asked me if I knew whose estate I was standing in," Alera said, her voice echoing with an undeniable, ancient authority that made the crystal chandeliers seem to vibrate. She stepped forward, the wine-stained terracotta fabric flowing around her like a royal robe. "Let me answer you clearly. This house is mine. Inherited from my mother, built on the very land my ancestors protected. Every stone, every chandelier, every drop of wine you just wasted belongs to me."
"No... no, that's impossible," Victoria stammered, taking a panicked step backward. "The owner of Velvet Manor is an anonymous international billionaire tycoon! The Sterling Trust owns this!"
"The Sterling Trust manages it for me," Alera countered, her eyes locking onto Victoria like a hawk targeting its prey. "I am Alera Sterling-Cloud. The anonymous owner you so desperately wished to impress. And you just poured wine on the woman who holds your father’s entire financial future in the palm of her hand."
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Right on cue, Victoria’s father, a heavy-set man named Richard Vance, pushed his way through the crowd, sweating profusely. He looked at Julian, then at Alera, and finally at his daughter.
"Victoria, you idiot!" Richard screamed, his face turning a dangerous shade of purple. "What have you done?! Is this the woman you insulted?!" Richard threw himself to his knees in front of Alera. "Please, Madam Sterling-Cloud! She didn't know! My daughter is foolish, she's arrogant, but please don't cancel the merger! My company will go bankrupt by midnight without your funding!"
