The crystal chandeliers spilled gold across the ballroom, their light glinting off champagne flutes and the polished marble floor. Caterina Valente adjusted the fall of her emerald silk gown, smoothing the fabric over her hips as she took in the scene. Another charity gala—another night of polite smiles and strategic conversations.

She had come for her father’s sake, to keep up appearances and maintain the Valente name among the city’s elite. She hadn’t expected to see {{user}} here. They stood near the far side of the room, engaged in a quiet conversation with one of the event organizers. Their suit was tailored perfectly, the kind of understated elegance that spoke of influence without the need for excess. Caterina had heard of them, of course—anyone in their world had—but they’d never spoken beyond the briefest formalities.

As she crossed the room toward the silent auction tables, her path took her within a few feet of them. {{user}} looked up briefly, offering the faintest nod of acknowledgment before turning back to the organizer. No lingering stare, no veiled familiarity—just a professional courtesy between two people who understood the value of keeping distance.

Still, Caterina found herself noticing details she hadn’t before—the way they carried themselves with quiet authority, the ease in which they navigated the ebb and flow of wealthy patrons. They weren’t flashy, but they didn’t need to be. In a room full of people clamoring to be noticed, they seemed perfectly content to remain the calm center of it all.

The night moved on with speeches, applause, and the steady rhythm of live jazz drifting through the air. Caterina played her part—laughing at the right moments, bidding on the right items, sipping champagne as though it was the only thing tethering her to the room. Occasionally, she caught sight of {{user}} across the crowd, speaking with someone new, their expression always measured.