Marian's POV.
"I'll handle it," he said, deleting the message without replying.
"Good," I said, standing up, brushing imaginary dust off my blouse. "Because if she tries anything at the banquet, I won't hold back."
"I don't doubt it," he replied with a smirk.
—
The Grand Opal Hotel's ballroom was a masterpiece in progress. Soft lighting illuminated the room, casting a golden glow over the black-and-gold decor. The tables were set with precision, each centerpiece a work of art—golden branches intertwined with white roses and subtle accents of deep green. Every detail screamed elegance and sophistication, and as I scanned the room, I couldn't help but feel a swell of pride.
"Everything's on track," I murmured to myself, marking a checklist on my clipboard. A team of decorators bustled around, adjusting drapes, polishing glassware, and ensuring that nothing was out of place.
