The sky over the coast was low and a brilliant cerulean, a clear, pure hue that instantly lifted the spirits. A sea breeze swept across the docks, bringing with it a refreshing, briny mist.
Within the harbor sat clusters of sailboats and yachts, but standing tall among them was a massive, pure white superyacht exceeding a hundred meters in length. It rose majestically like a masterpiece of modern architecture.
An impeccably dressed steward took her light luggage as Diana stepped onto the teak gangway. On the deck, Julian Harrison was leaning against the railing, casually swirling a glass of sparkling wine.
"Oh, look who it is. Our very own Miss Bell has finally graced us with her presence?" Julian straightened up, leading her toward the cabin with a grin. "When you become a titan of the business world, don't forget to give your old brother a hand."
Diana hooked a finger around her earbuds to pull them down. "What were you mumbling just now?"
"Right, headphones on, world off," Julian raised his voice, shouting over the salty wind. "I said, your brother has Maya watching his every move now, and I'm still a lonely man with no one to look after me. Before you become too rich and famous, lock in your spot as my benefactor. My retirement fund is riding on you."
Diana let out a soft laugh, teasing him with a sidelong glance. "What about that little troublemaker sister of yours? Don't tell me I'm the one stuck with your retirement."
"Don't even mention her," Julian waved his hand in feigned disgust. "That girl has no conscience. She spends every day at home hoping I'll 'abdicate' the throne early. When I'm old, I'll be lucky if she doesn't put rat poison in my tea, let alone show me any filial piety."
Diana recalled the tiny, soft-spoken girl who had barely learned to walk before she left for the States, and she couldn't help but smile. "Only you would talk about your own sister like that."
"There we go, that's better. Keep smiling," Julian said, noting her relaxed expression. "You were such a cheerful girl back in the neighborhood. You spend a few years in America and come back looking like you've been carved out of ice. It breaks your brother's heart."
Diana's pace faltered slightly. She realized Julian's banter was a carefully constructed effort to cheer her up. Warmth flickered in her chest, but as she stepped into the inner cabin, the smile on her face slowly froze.
The interior of the yacht, often called a "floating palace," was breathtakingly opulent. The double-height salon featured a massive minimalist ice-crackle chandelier. A spiral staircase led down to a private cinema and sauna, and one could even see schools of ornamental fish swimming beneath the transparent glass floorboards.
The spacious lounge on the first floor was already quite crowded.
In addition to the expected familiar faces, Charlotte Bell was sitting elegantly beside Eleanor Hayes, swirling a glass of red wine. Upon seeing Diana, she arched an eyebrow, her gaze flickering with a blatant sense of provocation—as if she were determined to reclaim the dignity she had lost during their last encounter.
Julian also sensed the shift in atmosphere. He leaned in close to Diana's ear, whispering an explanation. "Eleanor insisted on bringing her, saying the more the merrier. Since we all run in the same circles, I couldn't exactly bar the door. Just treat her like a pocket of thin air. With us around, she won't be able to pull anything."
"It's fine," Diana replied, her expression turning cool.
She had long since seen through Charlotte. It wasn't fear she felt, but rather the annoyance one feels toward a fly buzzing incessantly in one's ear.
However, Eleanor's choice surprised her, though upon reflection, it made sense. These pampered heiresses raised in hothouses found it easy to find a certain narcissistic resonance in one another. In Eleanor's eyes, Diana was the outlier—the one covered in thorns who disrupted the harmony of their social circle.
Diana walked past them without a second glance, nodding in greeting to William Knight and the other young heirs of the prominent families. However, when her gaze swept toward the long sofa by the floor-to-ceiling window, her breath hitched.
Jasper Sterling was sunk deep into the dark gray velvet, arrogantly occupying the entire sofa. A copy of VOGUE magazine was draped over his face, as if he were lost in a deep slumber.
Only he would have the audacity to sleep so peacefully in a room full of people.
But what truly made Diana's spine stiffen was the shirt he was wearing—a pure white silk piece of exceptional quality. The collar hung loosely open, the fabric reflecting the dim light in a way that looked identical to the one she had "borrowed" that morning.
She subconsciously glanced at William, a sense of guilt creeping up her ankles like a vine.
It must be a coincidence, right? Shirts of that brand all looked more or less the same. Besides, given Jasper's fastidious, germaphobic nature, there was no way he would wear the same garment twice.
And yet, her eyes seemed to have a mind of their own, uncontrollably circling back to that flash of white silk.
"He can actually sleep through this noise?" Diana whispered.
"He's a man of many quirks. To him, this background chatter is just white noise," Julian said, checking his watch. "Alright, everyone's here. Tell the captain to set sail."
Just as the words left his mouth, a heavy thud of footsteps echoed from the deck, accompanied by the frustrated protests of several security guards.
"Set sail? What kind of party at sea would this be without me? Wouldn't it be lonely?"
A man wearing a loud, garish floral shirt and a thick gold chain swaggered inside. He slid his cat-eye sunglasses down his nose, revealing a face with puffy bags under the eyes and a distinctly thuggish air.
A wave of physical revulsion surged within Diana. Silas Page. He was the most useless, degenerate member of the Page family. His reputation in the city's elite circles had been rotten years ago; she hadn't expected him to return looking even more like a low-life vagabond.
"What brings you here, Silas?" someone asked awkwardly.
"I just happened to be at the shipyard fixing my own boat and saw this beauty. Thought I'd drop by for a drink." Silas sat down on a central sofa with zero self-awareness. His eyes scanned the room before landing on Diana, lingering with a suggestive, oily grin.
Julian's expression darkened. He glanced at William, but the latter was looking down at his tea, seemingly unwilling to intervene. He then looked at Jasper, but the "Great Ancestor" was still dead to the world under his magazine.
Although the Page family's influence had waned, they still held seniority in the social hierarchy. Kicking him off the boat now would be a massive breach of etiquette.
"Fine. Since Silas wants to feel the sea breeze, he can stay," Julian sighed, waving a hand in resignation.
At that moment, the heavy gangway retracted completely. With the low, rhythmic thrum of the engines, the giant vessel slowly pulled away from the port, heading toward the deep blue of the open sea.
Well, there was no getting off now.