NovelAppA fleet of luxury cars rolled up to the hotel entrance, gleaming under the afternoon sun. Stepping out were seven sprightly
gentlemen, each a paragon of vitality and grace.
There was the grandmaster of chess, Eugene, whose nwas synonymous with the gitself.
The maestro of melodies, Regan, who could charm the soul with any instrument in his hands.
Nelson, the renowned calligrapher and painter, whose works were sought after across continents.
Beck, the illustrious president of Westerly College, famed for his medical prowess that could cure the incurable.
Brandy, the erudite head of Summerfield College, renowned for his encyclopedic knowledge and multifaceted talents.
Uriah, a retired political figure, now celebrated for his culinary genius and impressive agility.
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And Thomas, a former hacker and racing prodigy known for his love of tinkering with gadgets.
The assembled journalists were agog, hardly believing their luck at catching so many luminaries in one place!
They swarmed towards the men, microphones thrust forward.
"Mr. Eugene, we've heard whispers of a favored protégé. Any truth to the rumors? Might we have a name?" one reporter asked
eagerly.
"Sir, whose invitation swayed you to grace the Collins family's press event with your presence?" inquired another.
"Mr. Nelson, when might the world be graced with your latest masterpiece?"
"What's the big reveal from the Collins family today? Any hints?"
The questions flew thick and fast, but the gentlemen simply smiled benevolently. One of them, in a warm voice, teased, "All in
good time, my friends. All in good time."
As they watched the dignified retreat of the group, the intewas already in a frenzy. Whether it was the Collins family's clout or
the McMillian family's pull that had gathered such esteemed individuals, it was a marvel indeed—a testament to connections and
influence!
Then, another procession of high-end sedans arrived, stopping in an impressive display at the hotel's doorstep.
The bodyguards exited first, forming two neat lines, as a chauffeur stepped out to open the car door for a young lady.
She emerged in a stunning gown, her features delicate and eyes sparkling with vitality. Her neck was adorned with a regal tiara
necklace, layered above a necklace of deep sea blue, both jewels sitting on her porcelain skin as if they were made just for her.
"Who is she?"
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"Does anyone know her identity?"
"Look at her neck! What is she wearing?"
"That's Shirley's heirloom tiara necklace and Mrs. McMillian's sapphire piece—never thought they'd look so good layered together!"
"Didn't Shirley and Mrs. McMillian say earlier? Those necklaces are for Romeo's fiancée. But who is this girl?"
Arabella stepped forward, and the tall, noble Romeo emerged from another vehicle.
He and the five dashing Collins boys approached the girl, meticulously adjusting her gown, as they followed her in a protective
entourage, like knights escorting their one and only princess.
Her beauty was almost too much, her skin fairer than snow, and her eyes shone with a pride and coldness that was mesmerizing.
The journalists were struck dumb, and even the seasoned photographers forgot to snap pictures, all wondering about the identity
of this mysterious girl.
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