Chapter 149

Natasha's lips twisted into a scowl, her annoyance barely contained. "You expect me to settle for one of those entitled playboys? Not happening. I have taste."

"Precisely," Daphne added, her voice laced with contempt. "Our Natasha is meant for someone extraordinary."

Richard glanced between his wife and daughter, suspicion darkening his features. "You're keeping secrets from me. Have you already chosen someone?"

Natasha merely flashed a mischievous grin. "That's my little secret for now!"

Outside the Mirage Lounge, two men staggered toward the curb, their arms slung over each other's shoulders like sailors weathering a storm. After downing countless beers, their stomachs protested like overfilled water balloons. With the restroom line stretching endlessly, they stumbled outside, finding refuge beneath the gnarled branches of an ancient maple.

In Emberglow County, where rumors spread faster than wildfire, such behavior was commonplace after a night of heavy drinking. The stockier man had just finished relieving himself when his bleary eyes caught a distant silhouette. He froze mid-motion, fingers still clutching his belt, and elbowed his companion sharply.

"Damn, look at that! She's a knockout!"

The taller man, words already slurring, began to dismiss him. "At this hour? You're hallucinating again—" His voice died as his gaze followed.

His jaw slackened. "Holy hell! When did Emberglow get supermodels?"

Vivian stood bathed in the flickering glow of a streetlamp, her silhouette effortlessly arresting. Her endless legs seemed to defy physics, while her razor-sharp cheekbones took on an otherworldly allure under the erratic lighting—equal parts enigma and magnetism.

The two men, scarcely believing their luck, hastily straightened their rumpled shirts and swaggered toward her, their grins oozing with predatory intent.

"Evening, beautiful," one slurred, his voice thick with false charm. "Aren't you lonely out here all by yourself? Let us buy you a drink. Anything you want, darling—our treat."

Vivian, noting the unmistakable hunger in their eyes, pretended not to hear. She pivoted sharply on her stilettos and quickened her pace. She'd barely taken three steps before they intercepted her, blocking her path with alcohol-fueled bravado.

"Hold up, sweetheart."

"What's the rush? We're just being friendly," the taller one sneered, his breath reeking of hops and stale tobacco.

Suppressing a gag, Vivian lifted her chin defiantly. "My fiancé's waiting for me just around the corner."

The stocky man scanned the desolate street, his smirk widening. "Really? This whole block's nothing but condemned buildings and empty lots. You're too classy for some construction worker. Who is he—the ghost of Christmas future?"

Before Vivian could retort, they each seized an arm, their laughter slithering through the night like venom. "Relax, gorgeous," one crooned. "We're important people here. Spend some time with us, and you'll be thanking your lucky stars."