The weekend arrived, and one of Chicago's grandest mansions stirred with life.
The vast estate, usually serene and stately, was now a hive of activity.
Chefs and caterers hurried through the marble halls, waiters set crystal glasses upon long tables, and decorators adjusted flower arrangements worth more than an average man's yearly salary.
The air smelled of roasted delicacies and luxury perfume—a clear sign that tonight was a celebration fit for the elite.
By early evening, sleek limousines and luxury sedans began to roll into the circular driveway one after another.
The sound of expensive engines echoed through the courtyard as the city's wealthiest and most powerful figures stepped out, their laughter mingling with the music drifting from the ballroom inside.
Judging by the endless parade of designer gowns, tailored suits, and cars worth fortunes, it was obvious that only Chicago's upper echelon had been invited to this event.
Then, a new sound stole everyone's attention—a deep, throaty roar that didn't belong to any ordinary car. Heads turned.
Conversations halted.
Cameras and curious eyes shifted toward the mansion's entrance as a striking red sports car glided up the driveway like a predator among prey.
Its body gleamed under the golden lights, every curve and reflection commanding admiration.
"Whew! Look at that beauty," one of the younger servers whistled, unable to contain his awe.
"Damn," his partner muttered. "I'd sell my left ball just to own that ride."
"Ha! I'd go bald and broke just to take it for a spin," another added, laughing under his breath.
"I wonder who the owner is," someone else said, craning their neck for a better look.
Their question was answered moments later when the driver's door opened.
Out stepped a tall man in a perfectly tailored black suit that seemed made just for him.
His movements were calm, deliberate—radiating confidence without even trying.
The mansion lights caught his features just right: sharp jawline, piercing eyes, the kind of face that could silence a crowd without a word.
Although not particularly handsome but with how his face was always on social media and such, this man was without a doubt one of the most popular faces in the world today.
Ross Oakley.
He adjusted his cufflinks casually, completely unfazed by the murmurs spreading around him.
Then, to the astonishment of onlookers, he walked around the car and opened the passenger door himself.
And out stepped Nina.
She was radiant under the chandelier lights, dressed elegantly, her arm slipping naturally through his.
Together, they looked like a power couple straight out of a fantasy—untouchable, magnetic, and impossible to ignore.
"Wait a second..." one of the servers whispered, eyes wide. "That's Ross Oakley!"
The name rippled through the small crowd near the entrance.
Phones subtly came out for pictures, whispers grew louder, and even some of the guests stopped to stare.
Ross, however, seemed oblivious—or perhaps he simply didn't care.
His calm smile never wavered as he guided Nina up the steps and into the grand hall, the crowd parting instinctively to make way for him.
Every step he took carried quiet dominance, the kind of presence that didn't need an introduction.
By the time they disappeared through the mansion doors, the murmurs had only grown louder, filling the air with curiosity, admiration, and just a hint of envy.
***
Nina arrived at the mansion, her heels clicking softly against the polished marble floor as she scanned the crowd for her parents.
The evening was in full swing—laughter, music, and the low hum of conversation filled the grand hall, blending with the soft glow of chandeliers and the scent of fresh flowers.
Her eyes quickly landed on her mother, the birthday celebrant, radiant in an elegant gown that complemented her natural poise.
With Ross at her side, Nina approached confidently. "Mom, this is Ross, my boyfriend," she said brightly. "Ross, this is my mom, Jennifer."
Ross inclined his head in greeting, his eyes briefly meeting Jennifer's with a mixture of charm and calculation.
"A pleasure to meet you, Jennifer. I brought a small gift for your special day." From his suit pocket, he produced a delicately wrapped box and handed it to her.
Jennifer accepted the gift with a courteous smile. "How thoughtful of you. Thank you, Ross." Her lips curved politely, but Ross caught the subtle flicker in her eyes—a guarded look, a trace of appraisal and disapproval hidden beneath the surface civility.
It was barely perceptible, yet he knew instinctively that this was someone who did not easily open herself to strangers.
"The pleasure is mine, Ross," Jennifer said after a moment, her tone polite but measured.
"I've heard your name mentioned in the news more times than I can count, but I didn't realize you were dating my daughter. Last I heard, Nina was seeing that quarterback guy."
"He's old news, Mom. We broke up," Nina replied, a small smile of defiance on her lips, as though closing a Chapter she had no desire to revisit.
Jennifer chuckled softly, a sound that was warm yet carefully restrained.
Her eyes flicked to Ross again, lingering just long enough to gauge him.
Ross returned her gaze, unflinching, a faint, knowing smile playing at his lips.
He could sense her scrutiny, the subtle judgment behind her composed exterior, and it intrigued him.
Most people either fawned over him or shied away—but Jennifer seemed different.
He read her mind and he was not surprised to know that Jennifer did not like him for his daughter at all.
The conversation drifted into safe territory—small talk about the party, the guests, and the city—but Ross's attention remained subtly divided.
He noticed the slight lines around Jennifer's eyes when she laughed, the graceful tilt of her neck, the confident way she carried herself.
She was elegant, intelligent, and undeniably captivating, a woman who radiated a quiet authority without effort.
As the night progressed, more guests approached, eager to meet Ross.
Businessmen, investors, and other prominent figures made their way through the crowd, shaking his hand, exchanging pleasantries, and seeking the charisma that his reputation promised.