Her husband, Adrien Sterling,"s" was supposed to be in Zurich finalizing a major deal. Ana had taken the catering assignment to watch Damian Sterling, Adrien’s younger cousin and the CEO of Sterling Innovations. Damian had recently become the golden boy of the tech world after his company’s IPO, but Adrien had heard whispers that his cousin was getting reckless—making promises to dangerous investors he could not keep.
Ana was perfect for the job.
She could blend in.
She could listen.
And she missed nothing.
From her position near a tower of white orchids and hydrangeas, Ana watched Damian work the room. He was polished and camera-ready, with a smile that looked good in photographs but never reached his eyes. On his arm was Bianca Vance, the daughter of media mogul Robert Vance.
Bianca wore a fiery red gown and enough Cartier diamonds to announce her status before she opened her mouth.
She was beautiful.
But there was something hard in her sapphire eyes. Something sharp and restless. She laughed too loudly, sneered too easily, and carried herself like every room had been built to serve her.
Damian was her fiancé.
To Bianca, that meant he was also her possession.
When Bianca snapped her fingers for another glass of champagne, Ana approached with professional calm.
“Another glass of the ’09 Dom Pérignon,” Bianca demanded without looking at her.
“Right away, madam,” Ana said evenly.
Only then did Bianca turn.
Her eyes skimmed over Ana’s face with the dismissive glance one gives furniture. But something flickered there. A quick, instinctive assessment.
Ana was not flashy the way Bianca was. Her dark hair was pulled into a simple knot. Her features were sharper. Stronger. Her beauty was quiet, not decorative.
But no uniform could hide the way she carried herself.
Ana had the stillness of a woman who did not need permission to exist.
And Bianca noticed.
“You’re new,” Bianca said. “I don’t recognize you.”
“I was hired by the hotel for the event, madam,” Ana replied.
Damian gave Ana a brief charming smile, then tried to steer Bianca away.
“Bianca, darling, let’s not trouble the staff. We should go say hello to Mr. Blackwood.”
But Bianca shrugged off his hand.
“See that you’re quicker this time,” she said, turning away.
Ana retreated without a change in expression.
Bianca Vance was not her concern.
Damian was.
The Sterling family had been divided for decades. Adrien’s grandfather built Sterling Enterprises. When he died, he left control to Adrien’s father, Richard, and gave Damian’s father, Edward, a generous but non-controlling stake. Edward never forgave the decision. His jealousy grew into obsession, and eventually he tried to stage a hostile takeover of the family empire.
He failed.
But the damage nearly destroyed the company, and Richard Sterling, already suffering from a heart condition, died after a stroke.
Adrien had been only twenty-two when he took control.
He saved Sterling Enterprises and turned it into a global force. Then he cut Edward out of the core family business, leaving him with only a smaller tech company—what would eventually become Sterling Innovations.
Damian inherited the company.
And his father’s resentment.
Ana had been watching him all night, and what she saw confirmed Adrien’s concerns. Damian looked confident from a distance, but up close, the cracks showed. His eyes moved constantly. He calculated. He scanned for investors. He smiled too quickly and laughed too late.
He was in trouble.
And he was trying to hide it.
Ana had gotten what she came for.
Then Bianca stepped into her path.
“Excuse me, madam,” Ana said, attempting to move around her.
“You think you can just walk away when I’m talking to you?”
Ana paused.
Bianca had not been talking to her at all.
“My apologies. I thought you were finished.”
“I’m finished when I say I’m finished,” Bianca sneered. “I was watching you. You’ve been staring at my fiancé all night.”
The accusation was absurd.
Ana had been watching Damian, yes.
But not with interest.
With suspicion.
“I assure you, madam,” Ana said calmly, “I was only doing my job.”
“Your job is to be invisible. Not to ogle the guests.”
Bianca stepped closer, her expensive perfume suffocating in the space between them.
“I know your type. You see a man with money, and you think you can bat your lashes and work your way into his bed. Let me tell you something. Damian is mine. A gutter rat like you wouldn’t even be a momentary distraction.”
Nearby conversations began to quiet.
People were noticing.
Damian noticed too. He came over with irritation on his face.
“Bianca, come on,” he muttered. “You’re making a scene.”
“She started it,” Bianca snapped.
Then her eyes locked back on Ana.
“You think you’re better than me, don’t you? With your quiet little judgments.”
Before Ana could answer, Bianca’s hand shot out.
It was not a slap.
It was worse.
Her sapphire-ringed fingers hooked into the neckline of Ana’s emerald silk dress, the dress she had worn under the uniform for a quick change later. It was delicate, private, and custom-made by a Milan designer Adrien knew she admired.
Bianca yanked hard.
The fabric tore.
The sound sliced through the room.
For one frozen second, no one moved.
The torn silk gaped open, exposing Ana’s collarbone and shoulder. Her uniform jacket hung crookedly over the damage.
Bianca stepped back, breathing hard with triumph.
She held up the torn fabric like a trophy.
“There,” she said. “Now your dress looks as cheap as you are.”
A collective gasp moved through the nearby guests.
Damian went pale.
This was no longer a tantrum.
It was a public assault.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” he hissed, grabbing Bianca’s arm.
But Ana did not look at Damian.
She did not look at the crowd.
