Celebrate a birthday the Keir way. That's not just an invitation—it's a declaration. Think free-flowing cocktails with names no one can pronounce, haute cuisine prepared by the country's top chefs, floral arrangements that could bankrupt a small nation, and guests so elite even royalty might need an appointment.
The invitation alone is a bloodsport. For social climbers and corporate peacocks alike, getting that thick, embossed envelope is akin to receiving a golden ticket to ascend the food chain.
It's a battlefield dressed in velvet and lace where connections are weaponized and reputations hang by the thread.
As the party began, Elder Madam Keir floated through the grand ballroom like a historical empress resurrected, bestowing haughty smiles and stiff air kisses. Her diamonds had their own gravitational field. Guests parted like the Red Sea as she passed, murmuring reverent birthday wishes with the nervous enthusiasm of people who feared being struck from her will.
In a quieter corner, Allister Keir nursed a glass of red wine, his expression so unreadable it may as well have been carved from marble.
Despite being well into his fifties, the man looked like he just turned thirty. Sharp suit, silver-streaked hair, and a jawline that could slice through negotiation contracts—he was still dangerously magnetic.
Some younger women, emboldened by champagne and ambition, tried their luck at flirting with Allister. They were met with a polite but cold silence and a death stare from Eleanor Keir lurking around him.
Allister's heart was a closed museum, and the only exhibit it ever featured was Shin's mother. A tragic love story if there ever was one—right woman, wrong time, and an ending that nearly shattered him.
It was this very history that fueled his interest in meeting his son's alleged girlfriend. He knew all too well how intense the Keir men could be. If Shin had inherited even a fraction of his obsessive nature, the girl deserved a warning... or at least a survival guide.
"Enjoying yourself, brother?" came a familiar voice.
Allister turned to see Elli Keir and his perfectly polished wife approaching. He stood and nodded, offering a reserved greeting.
"Uncle Allister! It's been ages," chirped Hiro, Elli's eldest son, always impeccably dressed and deeply insufferable.
Hadi, the younger sibling and official family tail, chimed in with barely concealed glee, "Uncle, where's Cousin Shin? Haven't seen him around."
Ah, Hadi. Always the victim in his own imaginary crime novel. He couldn't wait to cry wolf and hope Shin got punished for breathing too confidently.
On the surface, Elli's family was a portrait of perfection—gorgeous wife, two golden sons, and strategically advantageous marriages. But behind the curated smiles were three wolves dressed in designer sheep's clothing. Power-hungry, manipulative, and abusive, they didn't love their wives—they owned them. And the wives? Equally greedy, staying not for affection or fear, but for the perks that came with the Keir name.
Then, a ripple of excitement swept through the room.
Guests, especially the women, suddenly turned toward the grand garden entrance. There, emerging like the climax of a fashion show, were Shin Keir and his cousin Tristan.
Shin wore a tailored navy-blue suit that clung to him like a secret. Tristan, in a suave tan ensemble, walked beside him with the swagger of someone who knew the cameras loved him. The two men were a sight—regal, cold, and devastatingly gorgeous.
Women swooned. Knees wobbled. Those who had spent the night trying to charm Allister immediately changed course. Why fawn over the original when the best version had just arrived?
"Forget Calin Ricci," whispered one guest. "Isn't she just rumored to be engaged? Rumors are fair game."
Hadi, watching the spectacle, muttered with a sneer, "Acting so high and mighty when he's just the son of a mistress."
"Hadi," Elli snapped quietly, sending a warning glance. Not now. Timing was everything, and this wasn't the moment to drop a scandal bomb.
Unaware—or perhaps uninterested—in the frenzy around him, Shin simply scanned the crowd like a man already regretting showing up. He hadn't even known it was the old hag's birthday.
If not for his relentless insomnia and Tristan's badgering, he would have happily stayed home glaring at his ceiling.
"Grandma, happy birthday!" Tristan beamed as he hugged Elder Madam Keir.
"Oh, my handsome boy!" she cooed, genuinely pleased. Tristan was her sweet-talking golden grandchild.
"Apologies for being late," he added. "Something came up at work."
Her expression softened, but only briefly. When her eyes landed on Shin, the warmth evaporated. "You. Showing up late. Got anything to say?"
"Grandma—" Tristan tried to intervene.
"I know. It's my birthday," she huffed. "I'll save the lectures for another day. At least tell me you brought a gift?"
Shin raised an eyebrow. "You spend the money I work hard every minute, and you still expect a gift?"
Tristan nearly facepalmed. Seriously? Could he just fake a smile for once?
"Grandma, he's joking!" Tristan quickly jumped in. "Actually, our gifts were sent ahead—check your bedroom."
"It's a red beryl jewelry set," Tristan added with a grin.
Elder Madam Keir felt a sudden rush of blood to her head but upon hearing Tristan she calmed down.
Her eyes gleamed like a pirate who just stumbled upon cursed treasure. Red beryl—the elusive gem she had coveted for years. Rare, pricey, and practically unattainable unless one had obscene wealth or connections in questionable countries.
She scoffed and strutted off, failing to hide the glee on her face.
The moment she was out of earshot, Tristan tugged Shin toward the cocktail bar. "Seriously? You had to go and insult the old woman on her birthday?"
"I didn't ask to be here," Shin said flatly.
"You represent the family's reputation," Tristan hissed. "At least pretend we're a peaceful dynasty."
Shin glanced around. Peaceful? Hardly. This wasn't a party—it was a glorified dog show. Elder Madam Keir floated about like a gracious hostess with a clipboard in one hand and a spotlight detector in the other, ready to pounce on anyone daring to outshine her.
Hadi Keir bounced from guest to guest like a lone circus clown who'd lost his troupe and his brother, Hiro Keir stood stiff as a statue, channeling pure aristocratic dignity—as if his wife hadn't just turned the mistress into a human mop last week. And there was Uncle Ellis, flaunting his 'billionaire watch' and charm as though the company's missing funds had evaporated by divine grace.
Ah, yes. And who could miss the final act? Eleanor Keir, his father's wife in both law and lunacy, clung to him like a designer handbag with legs. She might as well have tattooed "LEGAL WIFE" across her forehead in glitter ink.
"Son, I heard Calin proposed to you," came a sudden voice behind them.
They turned to see Allister, who had materialized like a shadow.
Shin's face remained blank. "You heard wrong."
Tristan's lips twitched. This is going to be fun.
Eleanor's eyes twinkled but upon meeting Shin's menacing stare, she cowered behind Allister.
As if summoned by drama itself, Calin Ricci made her grand entrance.
Wearing a gown that shimmered like moonlight on water, she looked every bit the goddess she styled herself to be. The crowd gasped audibly.
"She's even more beautiful in person," one woman whispered.
"I heard she and Shin are announcing their engagement tonight!"
"She's the perfect match for him!"
Calin floated through the room, basking in the praise like a sunflower to sunlight. Her carefully curated image—angelic and ethereal—was in full bloom.
She had intentionally arrived late to maximize impact. She didn't just want attention—she wanted a moment.
After her last crying performance, Elder Madam Keir and her mother had concocted the perfect plan: publicly announce the engagement tonight.
Even if Shin objected, what could he do? Back out and humiliate both families? Unlikely.
"Calin, you're finally here," Elder Madam Keir greeted. "Next time, be punctual. People might think you're impolite."
Elder Madam Keir was slightly displeased thinking Calin was trying to outshine her at her own party.
"Apologies, Elder Madam. We had a minor incident en route," Calin lied smoothly. "But I hope this small gift makes up for it."
She handed over a round ivory box with a glittering lid. Inside: a pair of red beryl earrings.
The old woman's soul nearly left her body.
It was precisely why Elder Madam Keir had handpicked Calin Ricci—because marrying into a family that owned one of the largest jewelry conglomerates in the country came with perks. To her, Calin was a golden VIP pass to a vault of glittering fortunes.
"My father secured them from Crystal City," Calin added smugly.
Crystal City—the holy grail of gemstone markets. The Keir matriarch's earlier grudge evaporated. Calin wasn't just suitable—she was strategic.
"Thank you, dear. What a coincidence—Shin gave me red beryl too. You really are a match."
Calin blinked. Shin? Gave her red beryl? Was it fate?
"Go talk to him," Madam Keir urged. "After all, you'll be engaged soon."
Calin blushed, then made her way to Shin's table—where Tristan immediately blocked her.
"Sorry, table's full."
There were clearly two empty seats. Calin's eye twitched.
With forced elegance, she took a cocktail from a passing waiter and sat beside Tristan anyway, squeezing in.
"Wine?" she offered sweetly.
Tristan chuckled. "Just so you know I'm not swapping seats."
Calin's polite smile cracked a little as she internally cursed him.
Then came the announcement.
"Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome our distinguished CEO Shin Keir and the radiant Calin Ricci to the stage for a very special announcement!"
Calin's heart skipped. This was it!
She smiled like a bride-to-be on national television. Shin, however, didn't move an inch.