Third person's POV
The city was already glowing when Kade arrived. Glass towers caught the last gold of the sunset, and the entrance to the fashion hall pulsed with camera flashes. He adjusted his cuffs, forcing a practiced smirk as he stepped onto the carpeted stairs. To anyone watching, he was every inch the composed Hayes heir, confident, polished, unbothered. Inside, though, the resentment clawed deeper with every step.
He hated these events. The fake laughter. The air thick with perfume and pretense. Every handshake felt like a transaction, every compliment another test he was destined to fail. Still, he walked through the crowd, smiling where required, sipping the champagne he didn’t want, listening to people who barely saw him.
“Ah, Kade Hayes,” one man greeted — a portly
