Amy Sinclair considered the possibilities. "Perhaps Nathan is distantly related to Mr. Whitmore? Or... maybe he simply accompanied his grandparents?"

Of course, there was a chance Nathan truly was connected to the Whitmore family.

But in truth, none of that concerned them.

Celeste leaned closer, whispering, "Isabella, are you absolutely certain the performance will go smoothly?"

Isabella shook her head firmly. "Don't worry, Celeste. I won't let anyone shake my confidence again. I promise."

Though Celeste was technically her employer, the two had always shared a friendship beyond professional boundaries.

Celeste smiled warmly and gave her an encouraging nod.

An hour before the event commenced, Alexander arrived at the venue with his parents.

As they presented their invitation, Alexander’s father, Reginald Prescott, cast an uneasy glance at the security personnel.

He could scarcely believe it—the illustrious Whitmore family had extended an invitation to the Prescotts, requesting their presence at this exclusive gathering.

The invitation had specifically mentioned Nathan’s attendance.

Initially, Reginald had dismissed it as a prank. He’d even called to verify, only to confirm its authenticity.

The Whitmores had truly invited them.

Despite his years of navigating high society and weathering countless challenges, Reginald couldn’t suppress a flicker of apprehension.

After all, every guest at this event belonged to the absolute pinnacle of elite society.

Compared to the Whitmores, the Prescotts were practically insignificant.

Once the security guard finished inspecting their invitation, he offered a polite smile. "Please, proceed inside."

Reginald exhaled, only then realizing he’d been holding his breath.

Inside the grand ballroom, Nathan’s mother, Beatrice Prescott, finally allowed herself to relax slightly.

Gone was her usual poised elegance; instead, she moved with cautious restraint, as though afraid of inadvertently offending someone of importance.

Beatrice murmured, "We have no ties to the Whitmores. Why would they invite us?"

Nathan couldn’t help but smirk. "I heard Alexander and Victoria were invited as well. Mr. Whitmore is currently in Solmaris, so it’s only natural he’d extend courtesy to the Blackwood family. Inviting Alexander makes sense."

His expression grew smug. "And as for Victoria... she’s Mr. Pendleton’s protégé now. Her status is in an entirely different league."

The ballroom was a whirl of unfamiliar faces—most of whom the Prescotts had never encountered before.

Reginald didn’t dare approach anyone for casual introductions.

Nathan, however, scanned the crowd eagerly, hoping to spot Alexander or Victoria.

Suddenly, his eyes widened. He blinked, rubbed them, then stared in disbelief.

He could’ve sworn he’d just seen Celeste.

What in the world was Celeste doing here?

Before leaving home, Reginald had sternly warned Nathan not to cause any disturbances at Mr. Whitmore’s event.

Nathan knew his temper could be volatile. He’d vowed to himself that tonight, no matter what, he wouldn’t act impulsively.

Just then, he caught sight of Alexander entering the ballroom, and everything clicked into place.

He marched straight toward Celeste. "Celeste, do you even realize where you are? Did you follow Alexander here?"

His voice dripped with disdain. "Do you understand the significance of this event? How dare you show your face here?"

Hearing his familiar voice, Celeste froze mid-step.

She turned slowly, surprise flickering across her features when she saw Nathan.

What was Nathan doing here?