The Grand Orchid Hotel, one of Zhang Corporation's most prestigious properties, shimmered under golden chandeliers, its ballroom filled with the city's most powerful business elites, all dressed to impress, or at least, dressed to avoid looking like they'd rolled out of bed. Tonight's gala was more than a lavish affair—it was a battlefield where deals were brokered, alliances forged, and rivalries simmered beneath polite conversation, like a pot of soup about to boil over.
Sophia, dressed in an elegant yet simple gown that made her feel like she was wearing a fancy straitjacket, moved through the crowd with practiced ease, her smile fixed but her eyes scanning for potential disasters. Though she was just an HR assistant, she had been assigned to oversee the logistics, ensuring VIPs were well attended to, which basically meant preventing rich people from having tantrums. It was exhausting, but she preferred being busy to awkward small talk with people who barely acknowledged her existence, unless she was holding a tray of hors d'oeuvres.
Across the room, Leonard, still in his intern disguise, blended in surprisingly well, like a chameleon at a paint store. He had swapped his usual casual look for a sharp tuxedo, though he intentionally left his tie slightly loose—enough to appear polished but not overly refined, like he was a secret agent on a mission to infiltrate a penguin convention. He moved through the crowd effortlessly, greeting guests with the perfect balance of respect and nonchalance, like he was hosting a party for his best friends, who just happened to be billionaires. It was easy to see why he belonged here—because he did. Just not as an intern.
Nathan stood at the bar, swirling a glass of whiskey, observing from a distance, his expression as unreadable as a sphinx at a poker tournament. He had agreed to go along with Leonard's absurd plan back in Chapter 2, mostly because he wanted to see the inevitable train wreck, and possibly make a profit from the popcorn sales. If anything, he was watching for the inevitable fallout, waiting to say, "I told you so," with the smug satisfaction of a cat who just knocked a vase off a shelf.
The Brewing Storm
Everything was going smoothly—until it wasn't. Like a perfectly baked cake suddenly exploding.
At Table Seven, two long-time rivals in the luxury real estate industry, Mr. Zhao of Zhao Developments and Mr. Liang of Liang Holdings, found themselves seated side by side, like two lions forced to share a watering hole. The tension was palpable from the start, both men exchanging curt nods instead of pleasantries, their smiles as genuine as a three-dollar bill.
Sophia noticed the shift in atmosphere, her internal alarm bells ringing like a fire truck at a library. She had seen this play out before—business talk turning into veiled insults, which then escalated into public humiliation, like a polite dinner party turning into a food fight. She braced herself as Mr. Zhao took a sip of his wine and sneered, "Still investing in those outdated beachfront properties, Liang? I hear your last project barely sold at 60% occupancy. Must be a real bargain for the local hermit crabs."
Mr. Liang chuckled dryly, his fingers drumming against his glass like he was playing a tiny, angry drum solo. "That's rich, coming from someone whose city developments are half-empty ghost towers. At least my properties have a view of the ocean, not a view of your failed ambitions."
The exchange quickly spiraled, drawing the attention of nearby guests, like a car crash on the highway of polite conversation. Eyes darted to the Zhang family, who, as the hosts, were expected to intervene, like referees at a wrestling match. Ryan, momentarily distracted by a conversation with an investor about the latest golf course development, hadn't noticed the scene unfolding. Nathan saw it but didn't move, his expression suggesting he was enjoying the show. Leonard, however, casually adjusted his cufflinks, like he was about to perform a magic trick, and strolled over.
The Stylish Save
Instead of directly addressing the argument, like a mediator at a divorce hearing, Leonard smoothly inserted himself into the conversation with an easygoing laugh, like he was joining a casual chat about the weather. "Gentlemen, you both have an eye for premium properties. But let's be honest—no one's winning this debate while sitting down. It's like arguing about art while staring at a blank canvas."
Mr. Zhao and Mr. Liang turned to him, momentarily thrown off by the interruption, like they had just been interrupted by a talking parrot. Leonard smiled and gestured towards the massive window overlooking the city skyline, a view that could make a postcard jealous. "How about a little wager? Pick any building in this view, and I'll bet you both have different insights on its potential. Winner gets bragging rights for the night. And maybe a free drink."
The shift in attention worked, like a magician's sleight of hand. The tension between the rivals softened as their focus moved from their heated dispute to the challenge Leonard had presented. Businessmen loved a chance to show off, and this was a way to do it without losing face, or their dignity.
Sophia, who had been preparing for damage control, like a firefighter with a bucket of water, watched in stunned silence, her jaw dropping slightly. Instead of escalating the situation or suggesting collaboration, Leonard had defused it effortlessly—turning hostility into competition, but in a way that removed direct conflict. Who the hell is this guy? And where did he learn to handle billionaires like they were toddlers?
Ryan finally caught on and smirked, sending a subtle nod of approval in Leonard's direction before returning to his conversation, like a king acknowledging his loyal subject. Nathan, however, wasn't as entertained, his expression suggesting he was about to write a scathing review on Yelp. He sipped his whiskey, side-eyeing Leonard. This idiot is enjoying himself too much. And he's good at it.
Lingering Questions
The gala resumed its smooth course, with Mr. Zhao and Mr. Liang now engrossed in one-upping each other about market trends instead of personal jabs, like two kids comparing their toy collections. Leonard stepped away from the table, grabbing a glass of champagne as he walked past Sophia, his eyes twinkling with amusement.
She narrowed her eyes at him, like she was trying to read his mind. "Not bad," she admitted begrudgingly, her voice laced with suspicion. "For an intern."
Leonard smirked, a flash of white teeth and hidden secrets. "I live to impress. It's my superpower."
Sophia rolled her eyes, but she couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to him than met the eye, like a book with a secret chapter. No normal intern handled billionaires like that.
Nathan watched their interaction, frowning slightly, his expression suggesting he was about to solve a complex equation. He still wasn't fully invested in this ridiculous charade, but something in his gut told him Leonard was playing with fire. And Sophia, whether she knew it or not, was walking straight into it, like a moth to a very stylish flame.