"Are you ready?" Crescentia asked.
Noella nodded excitedly, bouncing on the balls of her feet. Her enthusiasm was contagious, bringing a small smile to Crescentia's lips.
Carefully, Crescentia reached out and untied the blindfold covering Noella's eyes. The moment the fabric fell away, Noella gasped.
The living room was warm and inviting, the scent of fresh lavender filling the air. In the corner stood Clara, her grin wide with mischief as she popped open a confetti cannon. Glittering gold and silver pieces rained down, swirling in the light before landing on the floor in a sparkling mess.
"Welcome, Noella!" Clara cheered, arms open wide.
Noella squealed in delight and ran straight into Clara's embrace. Crescentia watched with a soft expression—Clara had always been like a second sister to Noella. She had visited their home a few times in the past to hang out, and the two had bonded instantly.
After Noella's surgery, she had pleaded with Dr. Nathan repeatedly to let Crescentia take her home. It didn't surprise Crescentia at all—Noella hated hospitals, even though she had spent more time in them than anywhere else.
When Crescentia had told her they would be staying at Clara's place for a while, Noella had been thrilled. She had no problem with it, as long as it meant she didn't have to return to the hospital.
They spent the next few hours eating lunch, catching up, and talking about everything and nothing. Eventually, Noella's energy began to wane, and she drifted off to sleep, leaving Crescentia and Clara alone in the kitchen.
Clara leaned against the counter, stacking plates as she shot Crescentia an amused look. "That sister of yours doesn't look like someone who just had surgery. She's still full of energy."
Crescentia let out a small laugh, drying a plate with a dish towel. "I thought I was the only one who noticed. I'm just glad she's recovering so fast."
Before Clara could reply, Crescentia's phone rang with a notification. She glanced at the screen and immediately froze.
It was a text from Damian.
Her heart gave a strange, unwanted jolt. It had been days since they last spoke—since the funeral, to be exact. He hadn't reached out once, hadn't bothered her in any way. And yet, here he was.
Swallowing, Crescentia unlocked her phone and read the message.
Her birthday is tonight. There will be a delivery for you. Wear the dress, and I'll pick you up at 7 PM. Don't worry about any present.
Crescentia blinked. Then, she read the text again, just in case she had imagined it.
No, she hadn't. The birthday was tonight.
A wave of unease crept up her spine. She hadn't mentally prepared herself to face his parents again, especially after what had happened the last time. His father despised her, and his mother wasn't any better.
"What's wrong?" Clara's voice broke through her thoughts.
Crescentia placed her phone down, exhaling slowly. "His grandmother's birthday is tonight."
Clara hummed, folding her arms. "Are you sure you can handle it? They already don't like you. Who knows? They might try to poison you."
Crescentia let out a dry laugh. She had told Clara about the night she had dinner with Damian's parents—the insults, the tension, the accusations against her father. The memory still left a bitter taste in her mouth.
"They can try," she said with a smirk. "But be ready to bail me out of jail if I do too much."
Clara grinned. "Please. If you're going to jail, I'm coming with you. Someone has to finish what you started."
Laughter echoed between them, pushing aside Crescentia's worries—at least for the moment.
In Damian's home…
"Are you sure you can bring her to the party?"
Christian leaned against the doorway of Damian's walk-in closet, watching as Damian adjusted his tie in the mirror.
Damian smoothed the fabric with slow, deliberate movements. "I am."
Christian raised a brow. "It seems to me that you're keen on giving your parents a heart attack."
A beat of silence passed.
"That's right."
Christian let out a dramatic sigh. "Or maybe… you just want—"
He caught the sharp glare Damian shot him through the mirror and immediately changed course. "You know what? Never mind. I'll be heading out now to make sure everything is secured."
With that, Christian turned on his heel and left, leaving Damian alone in the room.
He had only come to drop off a file—a file containing information on Crescentia.
Damian sat down and flipped through the pages, scanning each one with narrowed eyes. It contained basic details—her likes, her dislikes, the people she kept close. A few photos of her at past birthday parties. The college she attended.
Nothing out of the ordinary. And yet, it told him nothing about the real question that plagued his mind.
Why the hell was he obsessed with her?
His grip on the papers tightened.
It didn't make sense.
He had slept with countless women, never more than once. He never allowed them to get attached, never let them believe there was anything more. And yet, here he was.
Wanting Crescentia again.
It was suspicious.
His jaw ticked as he pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling sharply.
'This was a mistake.'
There was only one way to fix this—to rid himself of whatever strange pull she had over him.
He just needed to sleep with her once more, and then, he would forget her.
That was the plan.
Later…
When Damian arrived at Clara's place, Crescentia was already dressed.
The moment his gaze landed on her, his entire body went still.
The silk satin dress clung to her in all the right places, the soft fabric hugging every curve like it had been crafted just for her. The jewelry she wore was understated yet elegant, catching the light as she moved.
For a brief second, he forgot how to breathe.
Crescentia turned to face him, tilting her head slightly. "How do I look?"
Damian swallowed thickly before replying.
"Breathtaking."
The word slipped out before he could stop it.
Her lips parted slightly, as if surprised by the compliment. But before she could say anything, he stepped forward and extended a hand, helping her into the car.
Like a gentleman.
As they drove, Crescentia finally broke the silence. "I'd appreciate it if you texted me a few days before any event from now on."
Damian's lips twitched. "I thought this would be our last event together."
Realization dawned in her eyes. She had completely forgotten about their deal.
"Of course," she muttered, turning her gaze away.
But Damian continued to watch her, something unreadable in his expression.
He wasn't ready to let her go.
Not yet.
If he needed an excuse to keep her close, he would create one.
And he would make sure she had no choice but to stay.
As they pulled up to the grand venue, Crescentia's nerves stirred. The moment she stepped out of the car, the blinding flashes of cameras assaulted her vision.
Photographers. Journalists. Reporters.
All there to capture every move Damian Lorenzo made.
Her stomach twisted.
After tonight, there would be no hiding. The media would come for her, tear apart every piece of her past, speculate about her connection to Damian.
And somewhere in the crowd, Rafael Lorenzo—Damian's father—watched the scene unfold.
His expression darkened.
His grip on his champagne flute tightened.
His son had arrived. And he had brought her.