What kind of woman would stoop so low as to pursue her own sister's fiancé?

Harrison Harrington carried immense guilt toward Aurora, which manifested in granting her a larger stake in Harrington Enterprises.

Theodore Whitmore Jr.'s circle loved to whisper behind manicured hands. "She's just some backwoods peasant who grew up milking cows. Wouldn't it be simpler to hire some pretty boy to seduce her? Why must Mr. Whitmore dirty his own hands?"

Theodore reclined lazily in his velvet chair, swirling his whiskey. "Do you think I haven't attempted that? I hired professional heartthrobs - men who could charm the stockings off a nun. Equipped them with Rolexes and Lamborghinis too. Yet Celeste didn't even blink in their direction."

He took a slow sip before continuing. "Those fools shadowed her for ten days straight and couldn't even get her coffee order right. She eventually had them arrested for harassment. The entire Harrington family went into lockdown."

One of his companions smirked. "Country mouse has surprisingly refined tastes."

Another added with a sneer, "Aren't you worried this little game might jeopardize your engagement to Miss Aurora?"

The glass paused at Theodore's lips. When he finally spoke, his usual arrogant drawl had vanished. "Aurora's happiness is all that matters. Whether we end up together is irrelevant."

That was the final straw for Benjamin Carter.

He launched himself at Theodore like a provoked bull, sending crystal glasses shattering across the marble floor. Fists flew amidst the chaos of overturned furniture.

How could someone be so cruel? Orchestrating Celeste's downfall while claiming to love her sister?

Aurora lived in gilded luxury while Celeste struggled for every scrap of dignity. The injustice burned through Benjamin like acid.

The altercation earned Benjamin thirty days in jail - a small price for assaulting the Whitmore heir. He told Celeste he was leaving town to study abroad, swallowing the bitter truth.

Later, his research into the Whitmore dynasty revealed an insurmountable power gap. Vengeance seemed impossible. Yet Benjamin nurtured his rage like a sacred flame, waiting for the day justice would be served.

Meanwhile, Julian Montclair scanned the gilded ballroom for Arthur Pendleton, only to find the legendary musician absent.

"Wait here, Celeste," Julian murmured before disappearing into the crowd.

No sooner had he left than two German businessmen approached. Their appreciative gazes trailed over Celeste's elegant silhouette.

Noah had impeccable taste - this woman possessed an ethereal beauty that transcended mere physical attractiveness.

"Fräulein," one purred in German, "are you Herr Montclair's companion?"

His friend added, "You resemble our most celebrated actress. Join us for champagne?"

Celeste maintained her glacial composure, refusing to acknowledge their presence. Undeterred, they continued showering her with florid compliments about her bone structure and grace.

Just as her patience reached its limit, Nathan Prescott's mocking voice cut through the air.

"Save your breath, gentlemen. Our little country mouse doesn't understand cultured conversation." His smirk widened as he added in deliberately slow German, "Her education consisted of... how do you say... chicken coops and hay bales?"

The Germans burst into laughter. Celeste's fingers tightened around her clutch, her knuckles turning white. Nathan had crossed a line even his wealth couldn't protect him from.