The hotel glittered like a palace carved from gold and glass.
Crystal chandeliers shimmered above the grand ballroom of Eden Royale, their light splintering into a thousand reflections across polished marble floors.
Music drifted through the air—smooth jazz layered over the hum of elite conversation. Perfume, wine, and wealth blended into a single intoxicating scent.
It was Evelyn's first official night shift at one of the Ardent private parties.
She adjusted the cuff of her uniform—sleek black tailored attire designed for high-profile service—and steadied her breathing before stepping into the ballroom with a silver tray balanced in her hands.
The guests were powerful men and women dressed in silk and tailored suits. Diamonds flashed. Laughter was loud but controlled. This was not simply a party; it was a display of influence.
That was when she saw him.
Lorenzo Conti.
He sat near the center of the hall in a wide leather chair like a king holding court. Four bodyguards stood around him—thick-necked men in black suits with coiled earpieces and unreadable expressions.
Conti himself wore a pristine white suit stretched over a protruding stomach. His black hair was slicked back, his black eyes sharp and restless. A faint scar curved near his neck like a careless signature.
Cigar smoke curled around him like a personal storm cloud.
Evelyn approached carefully, lowering her tray slightly. "Good evening, sir."
Conti's eyes slid over her slowly. Too slowly.
"Well now…" His voice was thick and amused. "And who are you?"
"Evelyn, sir. Your waitress for the evening."
He smirked. "You're too pretty to be carrying trays."
The bodyguards shifted faintly but said nothing.
Evelyn forced a polite smile. "Would you like more champagne?"
"I'd like you to sit," he replied, leaning forward. "Talk to me."
"I'm afraid I can't, sir."
His eyes darkened with interest instead of offense. "Playing hard to get? I like that."
The smoke began to suffocate her. Whether from the cigars or the tension, her lungs tightened. She bowed slightly. "Excuse me, sir."
Without waiting for permission, she stepped away—heart pounding—and walked briskly toward the restroom corridor.
The cool tile walls of the washroom felt like sanctuary. She leaned against the sink, gripping the edge.
"Relax," she whispered to herself.
The door creaked open.
Her stomach dropped.
Conti stepped inside.
"Now, sweetheart," he said, locking the door behind him, "you ran off before we finished our conversation."
Her pulse thundered. "Sir, this is inappropriate—"
"Inappropriate?" He laughed crudely. "You work at a hotel like this and pretend you don't know how things work?"
He stepped closer, the smell of cigar smoke clinging to him. His words turned uglier—suggestive, filthy, degrading.
Evelyn stepped back until her spine touched the cold tile.
Then—
A second presence filled the doorway.
"Lorenzo."
The single word cut through the room like a blade.
Conti stiffened.
Lucien stood behind him.
Black suit. White shirt. Golden eyes glowing faintly under the restroom lights. His expression was calm—too calm.
"I would advise you," Lucien continued smoothly, "to remember where you are."
Conti forced a chuckle. "Just having a little fun."
Lucien's gaze sharpened. "Any 'funny business' with a staff member of my father's hotel will not be tolerated."
Silence stretched.
Conti studied him, calculating. Then he smirked. "Of course. My mistake."
He unlocked the door and left.
Lucien's eyes shifted to Evelyn. For a brief moment, something unreadable flickered in them.
"Follow me," he said.
She blinked. "Sir?"
"You'll serve my table tonight."
---
When they returned to the ballroom together, heads subtly turned.
Mr. Ardent noticed first.
Lucien approached his father's table with Evelyn at his side. "She'll be serving me for the remainder of the night."
Mr. Ardent observed them quietly before nodding once.
Lucien sat. Evelyn stood at his right.
A faint smirk curved Lucien's lips.
Across the room, Conti watched.
His jaw tightened.
The crystal glass in his hand shattered under pressure.
Wine dripped between his fingers like spilled blood.
---
Outside the hotel, a black Mercedes-Benz rolled smoothly to a stop.
The female driver stepped out first, moving to open the rear left door.
A young woman emerged.
Blue eyes. Deep blue irises that seemed almost luminous. Her posture was elegant but controlled. She wore a tailored dark coat, heels clicking softly against the pavement.
Two female bodyguards followed behind her.
She glanced at her phone, typed a brief message, then powered it off before entering the hotel.
Her arrival went mostly unnoticed in the chaos of music and wealth.
But she had noticed everything.
---
The party ended near dawn.
The following morning, the female staff gathered in the dressing room, exhaustion clinging to their faces.
One of them—excited, loud—began boasting.
"You wouldn't believe it," she giggled. "One of the guests last night paid me eight hundred dollars for just one night."
The room erupted in whispers.
Evelyn sat quietly at her locker, not paying attention.
"White suit," the girl continued. "Not too tall. Black hair. Black eyes. Had this weird scar on his neck. And he was kinda… round."
Evelyn froze.
"A bit of a stomach," the girl added casually. "But generous."
Evelyn's fingers tightened around her locker handle.
White suit.
Black eyes.
Scar on neck.
Fat stomach.
Her heart pounded violently.
"You mean Lorenzo Conti?" someone asked.
The girl giggled again.
Evelyn slammed her locker shut.
The sound echoed.
Without a word, she stormed out.
---
Later that day, another car arrived at the hotel parking lot.
Adrien stepped out.
He wore a black T-shirt with a yellow tie, black trousers, and a black-and-yellow suit jacket resting over his shoulder. Four bodyguards followed him as he entered the lobby.
"I'm here to see the guest in room 456," he told the receptionist.
Moments later, he stormed into the elevator.
When he entered the luxurious suite upstairs, he laughed lightly.
"Fiona," he said. "It's been long. Nice to see you're doing well."
Fiona stood from a yoga posture, her movements fluid. "Adrien."
She poured tea as he sat at a circular table.
"How is the Netherlands?" he asked.
She smiled faintly. "Boring. Especially since you're not making any serious moves."
He raised a brow.
"Stop being a dummy, I heard Ardent Lucien is on the lose in US and he is his father's hitman," she continued calmly. "I thought uve created a name for yourself, but looking at the fact you couldn't even avenge Varro ."
Adrien—who had been silent—folded his arms. He picked up the teacup, took a small sip.
"His father fears me. A man like Ardent himself is not a force to clash with and Varro was the fool, going after Ardent son. That's all there is to it...his death."
Fiona laughed softly. "I admire you, truly. But do you plan to live the rest of your life in fear..... I chose differently. Going rogue. Creating my own association."
He smirked faintly. "Clever, hiding behind cosmetics though,no one can suspect a thing."
She smiled proudly. "Yes. I am the creator of Shineout. But that was only the cover."
Her eyes sharpened.
"Since it seems you can't handle Lucien, I want to help you."
Adrien stood.
"That's not something I can let you do, to Ardent you're just a lab rat he will use for his experiment."
He walked toward the door without waiting for her response.
"Enjoy your stay in the US, Don't try to go close to the Ardent's...If you like your life " he added before leaving.
The door shut.
Fiona lifted her hand slightly. One of her female bodyguards stepped forward.
"Tail Lucien," Fiona instructed calmly. "If he won't cooperate willingly… then we need to show him the full power of our force."
---
Elsewhere, in a dimly lit room heavy with smoke, Lorenzo Conti sat alone.
A bodyguard entered and handed him a phone.
Conti took it slowly, a cruel smile spreading across his face.
"Yes," he said into the receiver. "I will gladly aid you if you want Lucien Ardent eliminated."
His eyes darkened.
The line went silent.
Outside, the city glittered under afternoon sun, unaware that war had just been whispered into existence.
---
Morning sunlight poured gently through Evelyn's curtains, but she did not rise immediately.
The memory of Lorenzo Conti's breath, his voice in the washroom, and the smug look in his eyes lingered like a stain she could not wash away.
A soft knock broke her thoughts.
Then another, followed by familiar voices.
"Evelyn! Open up before we break the door!"
She groaned faintly and shuffled toward the door.
Sofia burst in first—bright curls bouncing, energy spilling into the apartment like fireworks. Bianca followed behind her, calmer but equally determined.
"You look like you've been mourning a breakup," Sofia declared dramatically.
"I'm fine," Evelyn insisted.
Bianca folded her arms. "You slammed your locker and stormed out yesterday. That's not 'fine.'"
Evelyn hesitated before finally sighing. "It's nothing. Just… work."
Sofia plopped onto the couch. "Then we're fixing it. Today is a mandatory girls' day. No hotel. No rich creeps. No thinking. It's our day off baby, I love Wednesdays"
Despite herself, Evelyn smiled.
They forced her to change clothes and dragged her out into the city.
First stop: a cozy restaurant tucked between tall office buildings. The scent of grilled food and fresh bread filled the air.
Sofia insisted on ordering too much food, claiming carbohydrates were emotional medicine. Bianca rolled her eyes but secretly ordered dessert.
They laughed over old college stories, failed exams, late-night cramming, embarrassing crushes. Slowly, the tension inside Evelyn's chest began to loosen.
After lunch, they walked to a nearby park. Children ran across green grass while couples lounged under trees. The air smelled fresh, nothing like cigar smoke.
Bianca nudged Evelyn gently. "You don't have to carry everything alone."
Evelyn nodded quietly. "I just don't want to feel small."
Sofia grabbed both their hands dramatically. "Then don't. You're going to be a big time journalist right, we are just doing this low rate jobs because we haven't gotten legit jobs yet. You're strong. And if anyone messes with you, we'll ruin them."
Evelyn laughed for real this time.
By evening, they had booked a private karaoke room. Sofia sang loudly and off-key, Bianca surprisingly powerful and smooth. When it was Evelyn's turn, she hesitated but eventually picked a soft ballad.
As she sang, the emotions she had been holding slipped into the melody. Strength returned to her voice by the final note.
When they finally walked her home later that night, Evelyn felt lighter.
She unlocked her door and stepped inside, the quiet of her apartment wrapping around her.
She made tea and stood by the window.
For the first time since the party, Conti's face no longer dominated her thoughts.
---
Across the city, in a dimly lit private lounge, Fiona sat opposite Lorenzo Conti.
The room was quiet, guarded.
Conti exhaled smoke slowly. "You said you have influence."
Fiona crossed her legs elegantly, her blue eyes sharp. "And you said you want Lucien Ardent removed."
Their gazes locked—an unspoken calculation passing between them.
"He humiliated me," Conti said coldly.
"And he refuses to know his limit," Fiona replied.
Silence stretched before Fiona spoke again.
"There's a group. The Black Blades."
Conti's eyes narrowed.
"They are not local," she continued. "They are efficient. Swift. And when necessary… berserk."
Conti leaned back. "How many?"
"Fifteen," Fiona replied. "Enough to dismantle a kingdom."
A slow smile spread across Conti's face.
"Then hire them."
Fiona nodded once. "Consider it arranged."
Meanwhile, Lucien rode beside his father in a sleek black vehicle heading West from south.
The roads widened, cityscape giving way to coastal territory. This was the domain of the Westthern Syndicate.
They arrived at a large estate overlooking the sea. Guards opened the gates without hesitation.
Inside the grand hall stood the Leader of the West: Anthony Wally, a long-time ally of Mr. Ardent.
They greeted each other warmly.
"Old friend," Wally laughed, clasping Ardent's arm. "You should visit more often."
Lucien remained composed beside his father.
Then she entered.
Tryphena.
Wally's daughter.
Tall, poised, with intelligent eyes that measured everything in the room. She wore authority like silk.
"Lucien," she greeted smoothly.
"Tryphena."
They moved aside as their fathers spoke privately.
"The North has been stirring," Tryphena said quietly. "If they expand further, it will choke southern operations."
Lucien nodded. "I can see how thats a problem but I send reinforcements. Selected members from the North. Strategic placement."
She studied him. "Not takeover?"
He smirked faintly. "Strengthening supremacy. Not threatening alliances."
Her lips curved slightly. "You're different from what people say."
"And what do they say?"
"That you're cold."
Lucien's golden eyes glinted. "Cold decisions build stable empires."
She seemed satisfied.
Behind them, Ardent and Wally shook hands.An agreement had been reached.
North and West would reinforce each other.
The balance of power shifted quietly that afternoon.
Later that evening, Evelyn returned home after her day out.
The city lights flickered softly as she stepped from the bus. She felt tired but peaceful.
She removed her shoes at the door and walked barefoot across her apartment floor.
Her phone buzzed briefly—a message from Bianca reminding her to cheer up.
She smiled faintly.
Life was moving forward.
Outside, however, darker forces were arriving.
---
At the international airport, a private jet touched down smoothly under night cover.
Fifteen men exited.
Tailored suits. Polished shoes. Briefcases in hand.
To the casual observer, they looked like business executives on a corporate retreat.
But their eyes told a different story.
Cold. Focused. Empty of hesitation.
The Black Blades had arrived in the United States.
They moved efficiently through customs, documents flawless, identities prepared months in advance.
Outside, two luxury vans waited.
Their leader, a tall man with a faint scar across his jaw, adjusted his cufflinks.
"Target confirmation?" one of them asked quietly.
"Lucien Ardent," the leader replied.
"Timeline?"
"Soon."
They entered the vehicles without further discussion. The vans drove off into the sleeping city.
Fifteen shadows slipping into position.
---
Across the city, Lucien stood on the balcony of his mansion, staring into the distance as if he could sense movement in the air.
"Ryan, I can't stay in the mansion this night. I'll need you to drive me to number 23 of the estate my casual residence and deploy 40 men to my mansion swiftly".