Chapter 113
Two servants carried in a massive black box, setting it quietly in the center of the living room.
The package bore no brand markings—only the Russell crest embossed in silver thread, bold and distinctive.
Alaric's doing.
Diana dismissed the servants with a wave and approached the box alone.
She didn't immediately open it, instead studying the emblem—a poised falcon with every feather suggesting sharpness and defiance.
When she finally lifted the lid, there were no extravagant fillers, only the finest black velvet lining.
A star-gray evening gown lay within, its velvet material catching the crystal light with deep, muted luster.
The dress featured impeccable tailoring without excess lace or embellishments.
Its body-skimming design and delicate straps were elegant, but the true statement was the back—a breathtaking open design that traced from the shoulder blades downward in a dramatic curve, finally ending at the small of the back.
Elegant, sensual, yet assertive. Like her—or rather, like how he saw her.
Beside the gown sat a small jewelry box containing a platinum necklace with a uniquely designed snowflake pendant.
Each crystalline point was set with a tiny, almost invisible diamond that refracted mesmerizing cold light when turned.
At the bottom lay a stiff black card with silver handwritten text in sharp, decisive strokes:
[Bill settled. Looking forward to my companion outshining everyone.]
No signature, yet the confident, brazen energy was unmistakable.
Diana's fingertips lingered on the card's hard edge. She recalled her challenging remark in the study, which he had answered with this bold, direct response.
He seemed to always see through her composed exterior to her competitive nature, then deliberately provoke her boundaries, enticing her into his game.
She picked up the necklace, its cool metal against her fingers instantly clearing her confused thoughts.
She brought the pendant close, examining the snowflake's structure—a perfectly symmetrical hexagonal crystal remarkably similar to the meticulous order she'd observed in Rupert's study.
Coincidence? Or something more?
Diana's breath caught imperceptibly. The methodical, rigid Rupert and the uninhibited, reckless Alaric—what if they weren't two different people? What if these opposing traits belonged to the same person?
Looking from the snowflake to the card's message, she felt closer than ever to solving the true mystery.
---
Crystal chandeliers cascaded like starlight at the Harborview Arts Center, illuminating the glittering social scene. The air carried notes of champagne, expensive perfume, and the hushed conversations of the elite.
When Diana entered, the entrance hall momentarily fell silent.
She wore the star-gray velvet gown that flowed like liquid night against her perfectly proportioned figure.
Under the lights, the fabric gave off a subtle glow. Most striking was her exposed back—that bold, clean line from elegant shoulder blades to taut waist created a masterpiece of minimalist beauty, deadly sensual beneath its elegance.
The snowflake necklace at her throat refracted cold, crystalline light, perfectly complementing her cool, composed presence.
Her aura immediately silenced many who had come expecting to witness the Russell family's embarrassment.
"Diana."
A soft, lilting voice sounded beside her.
Leila approached with a glass of champagne, moving with practiced grace. She wore a pure white princess gown, her makeup flawless, every feature carefully calculated to project innocence and sweetness.
"You look amazing tonight," she said, appraising Diana.
Her gaze lingered on Diana's exposed back, a flash of jealousy crossing her eyes despite her increasingly concerned tone. "But isn't this dress a bit... daring? With so many people watching, and you being new to the Russell family, perhaps a more modest impression would be better."
The criticism was thinly veiled—Diana was dressed too provocatively and as a "new bride" should be more cautious rather than attention-seeking.
Diana accepted a glass of water from a passing server, her fingertip tapping the cool surface without looking at Leila.
"My attire represents the Russell family's aesthetic," she replied evenly. "As for you, Leila—the York family hasn't gone bankrupt yet, so why are you dressed like you're applying for a waitress position?"
Leila's smile froze. Her outfit—this season's haute couture from a top designer—being compared to a waitress's uniform?
Before she could retort, familiar voices approached from behind.
"Diana, is that how you speak to your sister?"
Idris appeared in an immaculate suit, frowning as he approached with Dash and Zach in tow—the York brothers making their entrance in full force.
Idris's sharp gaze swept over Diana, his tone carrying brotherly admonishment. "Don't embarrass the York name in public. You've finally managed to climb the Russell family tree—you should know your place and not cause trouble."
Diana raised her eyes, glancing past Idris to Dash, whose expression was complicated.
"You're right about knowing one's place, Idris," she responded with deliberate calm. "For instance, one shouldn't sell their sister like merchandise for profit, nor use underhanded tactics to force a sister to marry in a foster daughter's place. Wouldn't you agree, Dash?"
Dash's expression darkened as he instinctively avoided Diana's gaze.
"What nonsense are you talking?" The most hot-tempered Zach stepped forward, his face fierce. "Dressed up and thinking you're royalty now? Don't forget—if Leila hadn't rejected this marriage, it would never have fallen to you!"
"Zach." Diana's voice cooled, her clear eyes frosting over. "Before you speak, remember what my surname is now. The Russell family doesn't tolerate loose talk."
Just as she finished, a bright, cheerful voice cut in.
"Diana! Finally found you!"
Dennis pushed through like a gust of fresh air. Seeing the York brothers surrounding Diana with unfriendly expressions, he immediately understood the situation.
"If it isn't the York sons! What's the conversation about? Looks lively." He interjected with a grin, naturally positioning himself between Diana and the brothers as a protective barrier.
Idris and the others' expressions shifted at Dennis's appearance. They might dismiss Diana, but they couldn't disrespect Dennis—a Russell.
"Nothing important—just family catching up," Idris forced a smile.
"Catching up is wonderful!" Dennis nodded dramatically before turning to Diana, his eyes bright. "Diana, they're too noisy. The music's lovely—let's dance! I'm an excellent dancer, promise I won't step on your toes!"
His invitation was direct and genuine, like sunshine dispelling the gloom.
Diana glanced at him, recognizing his attempt to extricate her. She also understood that accepting an invitation from a Russell family member in this setting would reinforce her position more effectively than any words.
She nodded slightly. "Very well."
Returning her water glass to a server's tray, she naturally placed her hand in Dennis's outstretched palm.
As they glided onto the dance floor, a ripple of subtle gasps spread through the crowd.