Chapter 2 - CHAPTER 2

Scene:the gala

🔥Shane🔥

I walked into the hall confidently, wearing a deep navy suit with an open-collar burgundy shirt and no tie.

Whispers swirled around me as I moved through the crowd.

Then, I saw her—Tyla Jackson.

She wore a sleeveless velvet gown in midnight blue, the fabric clinging to her curves, the thigh-high slit revealing toned legs. Her black heels clicked softly as she laughed with her friends; Rose Hiddleson and Claudia Blackwood__the infamous Valemont Golden Trio.

Rose was a vision in red: a floor-sweeping, off-the-shoulder A-line ball gown, shimmering with silver embellishments.

Claudia, meanwhile, glowed in emerald satin, the dress catching the light with every movement. A subtle slit teased a glimpse of leg; her black stilettos flashed beneath.



TYLA JACKSON'S O

I couldn't help but stare at Tyla, her beauty captivating me. Charles approached me, a sly grin spreading across his face. "Dude, you're staring so hard, I'm surprised your eyes haven't fallen out yet," he joked, snagging a drink from a passing server.

"Do you like her?" he teased, amusement dancing in his voice.

I shook my head, trying to play it cool. "No. Did you bring the speech?"

Charles raised an eyebrow. "Bring what?"

I let out a frustrated sigh. "The speech, Charles. I need it for tonight's performance."

He chuckled and patted me on the back. "Chill, man. I'll go get it."

With that, he walked away, leaving me to make my way through the crowded room. As I approached the string quartet, my grandfather stood entranced by the music.

In my distraction, I didn't notice Tyla standing there until I collided with her. Wine splashed across my chest, staining my navy suit.

"Watch where you stand next time," she said, her voice laced with sass.

I glared at her, annoyance simmering beneath the surface. "Are you serious? Are you always this careless, or just today?"

Tyla's smile was unfazed. "Careless? No. I just wanted to see how you would react."

My frustration grew. "This suit costs more than your entire wardrobe. You owe me."

Tyla's laughter was cold and sharp. "Owe you? Don't be dramatic. I don't pay for things like this."

Her nonchalance only fueled my irritation. "You think this is funny?"

Tyla's smile never wavered. "I think you being upset over a little wine is funny."

As she stepped past me, I followed, my anger escalating. "Typical rich girl with no consequences. Always someone cleaning up after you."

She spun around, her eyes flashing. "And you're the rich boy who thinks being rude makes him interesting? Please."

I clenched my jaw, struggling to keep my cool. "I'll send you the dry-cleaning bill," I said tightly.

She smirked. "Make it expensive."

I watched as her friends rushed to her side. Rose and Claudia fussed over her, asking if she was okay. Tyla's response was breezy. "I'm good. Just a minor collision."

"Minor collision", I repeated.

Daniella walked up.

She chimed in, "Tyla, maybe try not to ruin someone's outfit next time."

Tyla shot back, "Tell your brother to stay out of my way."

Charles strolled over, amused. "I walk away for five minutes, and it's already tense. What did I miss?"

Tyla replied, "Wine spill".

"Of course, Expensive one, I'm guessing?", he said eyeing my shirt.

I stood there, seething, as Tyla's friends chatted around her. When I spoke up, my voice was calm but firm. "You should apologize."

Tyla sipped her drink, her eyes meeting mine. "Why? You still look expensive."

The room fell silent, with gasps and whispers erupting around us.

Tyla's brother, Ethan, stormed to her side, whispering furiously in her ear.

Tyla's face remained blank, but I saw a flicker of emotion in her eyes when she glanced at her parents.

As I watched, Tyla's friends whispered to her, and she smiled, unfazed.

But I knew this wasn't the end. "Fine. No apology. But we're not done," I said, walking away and brushing past Charles.

I stepped outside onto the terrace. The cool night air hit my face. The party was still going strong inside, but I needed a moment away. 

Tyla Jackson.

She ruined everything with that stupid spill. 

She wasn't sorry; just standing there like she owned the place, like she didn't care about anyone or anything. 

I felt angry. More than angry. She disrespected me. Right in front of everyone. 

I clenched my fists, trying to calm down. My sister Daniella came up behind me. 

"You look ready to blow up," she said. "You can't let her get to you. Not tonight." 

"She humiliated me," I said. "In front of everyone." 

Daniella shook her head. "You need to be smart about this, Shane. Keep your cool." 

I kept thinking about Tyla's eyes, the way she looked at me. It was like she was daring me to do something.

Charles walked up to me. "Go and change," he said, handing me the speech and a white suit. "You still need to deliver the speech." 

"Guy, next time, don't tell me to write a speech for you," he added. "I almost ran mad yesterday trying to figure out what to write. I had to call Lucas to do it." 

"I still can't understand how you can run a company but can't write a speech," I said as I entered. 

"He can't write a speech either," Daniella whispered to him. 

I hissed. 

I walked into the private dressing room, tossing the white suit onto the bed.

The fabric was crisp, too formal for my mood. I didn't want to do this, not after Tyla's little stunt, but Charles was right. I had to keep up appearances. 

I unfolded the speech and scanned the words. 

And immediately regretted it. 

"Ladies and gentlemen, distinguished guests, and Grandpa (the man who's somehow older than this house but still dances like he's 25)!"

I groaned.

Charles.

Of course, he did turned this into a comedy act. I flipped the page, hoping it got better. 

"90 years young! That's right, folks: he's been alive longer than sliced bread, color TV, and common sense!"

I pinched the bridge of my nose..

Did Lucas really write this?

But there was no time to rewrite it. The crowd was waiting. I buttoned up the suit, straightened my tie, and took a deep breath. 

Time to embarrass myself.

As I was about to walk out, Charles rushed into the room. "Sorry, I gave you the wrong speech," he said, exchanging it for another one. 

I opened it. This one was better, more formal. 

"I won't ask you to write a speech for me next time,"I said. 

"I still don't get it; why didn't Fynn write this like he always does?"he muttered. 

"You know Fynn has been very busy lately," I replied. 

"But you have thousands of employees under you. Just pick one. Why disturb my peace?" he grumbled. 

I didn't answer and walked back to the grand hall.