Owen's POV
One gala, right into another.
This one felt less like an event and more like a loud, glittering outdoor carnival masquerading as high society. The kind of place where you had to squint—not just from the blinding sunlight reflecting off sequins, but from the overwhelming brightness of fake smiles and floral beds.
The garden gleamed like a diamond, its white marble pillars standing tall amidst tempered glass that threw rainbows across the crowd.
Every detail screamed money, from the crystal chandeliers hanging impossibly from trellises to the pristine, sculpted hedges that framed the pathways. Even the air felt expensive, perfumed with a mix of roses and wealth.
And there I was, stuck in a suit that cost more than the computer I’d built from scratch last summer. The tie fel
