AT THE BALL
The ball was set for Friday. To Janis's annoyance, Adrian had been coming home early all week just to remind her of it. His presence meant she had to cut her investigations short, get home before him, and pretend to play the role of a dutiful wife. She was frustrated beyond belief.
Finally, the day arrived.
Janis had her own plans—meeting detective Clinton to follow up on the Jackson family murder—but Adrian, of course, had others.
"Your stylist has arrived," he announced smugly when he found her sitting idly at her desk, clearly waiting for him to leave.
"Stylist? Adrian, I can do my own makeup. And I'm not going to your stupid ball."
"Why don't you tell them that to their faces?" Adrian stepped aside, revealing a team of men and women standing just outside the door.
"Tell them to leave. I want to speak to you personally," Janis snapped. At her command, the stylists retreated without protest.
She turned on Adrian, eyes cold. "Look, Pedro. I've been putting up with your bullshit for way too long, and I'm reaching my limit. You and I don't have a normal married life, so stop dragging me into your circus."
"There is need, sweet wife," Adrian countered, his tone deceptively calm. "You need to go out and act useful for once, instead of sitting at home all day doing nothing."
"I prefer sitting at home than going out with you."
"But you have no problem going out with Hermes."
"Hermes is my bodyguard."
"And I'm your husband."
"I don't want you to be my husband! I never wanted this marriage!"
Adrian's fists clenched at her words. For the past week, he'd been trying—coming home early, making an effort to spend time with her, even softening his temper. But every time he appeared, Janis looked colder, unhappier to see him. He wanted to ask: What have I done to deserve this hatred?
But he didn't. Instead of yelling, he turned and left the room without another word.
Janis froze. That was unlike him. He always stayed, always pushed until she snapped. Why walk away now?
Before she could follow, the stylists returned. To her surprise, they were specialists in styling Black women. Their kits were stocked with the exact products she used. Adrian had been considerate—deliberately so.
"Ma'am," the head stylist said gently while wiping Janis's face, "I know you're angry at your husband, but you should forgive him."
"Why?" Janis asked flatly.
"Because he hired us from the far east of Tybis, paid for our transport, and even promised to triple our fee if we made you look stunning. He's… caring."
Janis didn't answer. She didn't know what to say.
Three hours later, she stood in front of the mirror, transformed. The stylists had applied light makeup that softened her edges, giving her an ethereal, innocent glow. Her short hair had been twisted into a sleek bun adorned with a diamond-studded hairpin.
Then there was the dress.
"Madam, this is the Nightingale Dress. Worth over one million tybs," the stylist whispered reverently.
Janis already knew of it—everyone in Tybis did—but she never thought she'd wear it.
Downstairs, Adrian sat seething on the sofa, replaying her cruel words. After all he had done, she still called him nothing. Ungrateful.
His phone buzzed.
"Adrian, are you even listening?" Timothy's voice asked on the other end.
"What do you want, Timothy?" Adrian replied, irritated.
"I was asking if I should pick you up since your wife isn't going to—"
Adrian cut the call mid-sentence. He didn't need pity.
He rose, ready to drag Janis downstairs himself—when she appeared at the top of the stairs.
His breath caught. She was breathtaking, gliding down step by step, her expression indifferent but her beauty luminous. The stylists had done more than well—he'd increase their pay.
"Let's go," Janis said curtly, walking past him before he could utter a single compliment.
Janis wanted Hermes to join them in the car, but Adrian had anticipated her. He'd given the bodyguard the day off—no third wheels tonight.
The driver opened her door. "Thank you," Janis said politely as she slipped inside. Adrian frowned. She never thanked him.
"I brought gifts for the couple," Janis remarked casually, pulling out a box. "Mother-of-pearl cufflinks and a pearl tie clip. Pearl is the symbol of thirty years."
Adrian smiled faintly. "I knew you'd get something thoughtful. That's why I didn't bother buying a gift."
Janis bit back the urge to snap that it was her money, not his. She couldn't risk him discovering her fortune.
"The Eugene family is one of the most prominent in Tybis," Adrian explained as the car moved. "This ball isn't just an anniversary—it's where business giants compete for their favor. Designers, investors, tycoons from all over. It's a battlefield."
"They sound impressive," Janis said smoothly. She already knew. She'd researched every Eugene and every guest on the list.
Her phone buzzed.
Phoenix: Boss, you need to attend the Eugene ball. Perfect chance to push our company forward—and question our suspects.
Her company. Mineral trade: jade, crystals, rare stones. The empire she built in secret while still in Amiret. Phoenix Fendore ran the front, but every brick of it was hers. Oasis Inc. and other giants already recognized her. The Eugene deal could catapult her further.
Janis: Will you be there?
Phoenix: Of course, boss. Those cufflinks were from me—meant to impress the Eugenes. Don't fail.
"Who are you texting?" Adrian asked suddenly.
"My boyfriend," Janis replied dryly, then smirked at his expression. "Relax. I'm obviously chatting in the 'Rich Housewives of Tybis' group."
He calmed. She'd been added to that silly circle by his mother. He believed her.
"We're here," the driver announced.
Janis's lips curved into a small smile as the grand Eugene mansion came into view, lights glittering, music floating through the air. The courtyard was already packed with Tybis's richest chaebols, circling like predators.
"Why are you smiling now?" Adrian asked, baffled. She'd been stone-faced all evening.
"Nothing," Janis said smoothly, still smiling. These businessmen are in for a surprise.
They stepped out. The doorman bowed as Adrian handed over their invitation. Janis refused his request to take his arm, but he forcibly pulled her hand into his.
The ballroom hushed the moment they entered. All eyes turned—astonished. Adrian Pedro, the elusive second young master, with his mysterious wife at last.