She caught only a glimpse of the hall outside.
That was enough.
Polished marble floors. Gold railings. Crystal chandeliers dripping from the ceiling.
Money was everywhere. Power, too.
Not a place you walked into.
A place you were allowed into.
Tiffany had just taken her seat beside Lucien—
—and already, the man next to her was staring.
Not subtle. Not polite.
A slow, deliberate look. Like he was pricing her.
"You're new," he said, leaning in, swirling the drink in his glass. "What's your name?"
"Tiffany."
Her voice was light. Unbothered.
Her fingers traced the rim of her glass, slow and absent-minded—just enough to keep distance.
"Tiffany…" He smiled. "Pretty name."
His arm stretched across the back of her chair.
"Since you came with Lucien, you'll drink with me tonight."
His hand slid—casual, lazy—down the chair.
Toward her waist.
Tiffany shifted.
Not obvious. Not rushed.
She picked up a fruit fork, speared a piece of melon, and held it out to him with a faint smile.
"You should eat first," she said. "Drinking on an empty stomach isn't great."
Clean.
Effortless.
Untouchable.
His hand never made it.
A flicker crossed his eyes.
Surprise.
Then interest.
"You're smart," he murmured. "But a little too distant. You don't have to act like this with me."
His hand moved again.
This time—her wrist.
"Come closer."
Tiffany pulled back just enough.
Then nudged the ashtray toward him.
"Your ash."
Again.
And again.
He missed.
Every time.
His smile faded.
"Chen," he said, voice cooling, "your girl's got an attitude."
"She takes time," Shen Chen replied calmly. "If she crossed a line, I'll apologize for her."
A pause.
Then a low laugh.
"That's not going to cut it."
The warmth in his expression vanished.
"This time—"
His hand shot forward.
"I'm not asking."
Straight for her face.
Too fast to fully dodge.
For a split second—
he almost touched her.
Then—
Lucien moved.
Fast.
Precise.
His hand snapped up and caught the man's wrist midair.
Firm.
Unyielding.
"That's enough."
His voice dropped.
Cold.
The man froze for half a second—then jerked his hand back, his expression turning ugly.
"Lucien . What the hell is this?"
"No problem." Calm. Flat. Heavy.
"She's with me. You touch her, you disrespect me."
"Disrespect you?" The man slammed his glass down. "I showed up tonight for you. And now you're throwing attitude over a woman?"
"She's not just a woman."
That made him laugh.
Sharp. Mocking.
"In my eyes? A hostess is still a hostess."
Silence.
Then Tiffany spoke.
Soft voice.
Sharp edge.
"Watch your mouth."
The man turned to her, disbelief flashing across his face.
"Watch my—?" He let out a harsh laugh. "I gave you respect. You didn't take it."
His eyes went cold.
"So don't blame me."
This time—
he lunged.
Fast. Rough.
Straight for her arm.
Lucien blocked him again.
Hard.
"Bang—!"
A glass shattered against the floor.
"Ungrateful little—!"
Before he could finish—
movement.
From the shadows.
Guards.
Armed.
Fast.
They flooded the room and sealed the entrance.
Everything tightened.
One wrong move—and it would snap.
"It's fine," Shen Chen said, sharp and controlled. "Stand down. Just a misunderstanding."
No one moved.
They were waiting.
For him.
The man gave a cold snort.
Only then—
the guards stepped back.
Silence fell.
Heavy.
Breathing. Tension. Stillness.
Then—
it broke.
Screams.
Chairs scraping.
Footsteps crashing.
Women grabbing their bags and running for the door.
Chaos.
And then—
a click.
A guard snapped.
Gun up.
"Don't move!"
Tiffany's gaze sharpened instantly.
No hesitation.
She moved.
A sharp kick—
straight into the base of the heavy ebony table.
"BANG—!!"
The table shot forward—
slammed into the guard's legs.
He lost balance instantly.
"BANG! BANG!"
Gunfire exploded.
Wild.
Out of control.
Glass shattered.
People screamed.
Everything fell apart.