Chapter 72: The Shepherd Gala
The grand ballroom of the Salvador estate shimmered under the glow of golden chandeliers, the air was filled with laughter, the clinking of glasses, and the hum of a string quartet playing a soft, enchanting melody.
The celebration was in place, an event that had gathered the most powerful figures in Salvador.
Business tycoons, ministers of the state, high-ranking officers, and the city’s elite families stood in elegant clusters, engaged in quiet conversations or laughter that rang like silver bells against the marble walls.
The ladies gather to admire and critique each other’s dresses, as if the event were a grand fashion contest meant to display their prestige. Meanwhile, some men proudly showcase their stunning daughters, hoping to spark alliances, while others dive into discussions about business ventures.
This is the very dance of social dynamics, where everyone plays their part in the cycle of networking and reputation-building. And then, the moment that silenced the room.
Mara appeared at the top of the grand staircase.
She was breathtaking. Dressed in a gown that shimmered under the lights gold and ivory threads were woven together like something spun from a dream. The fabric hugged her form in all the right places, walking down in soft, flowing layers that trailed behind her. Her dark curls had been pinned up, with a few loose strands of hairs framing her face, accenting the delicate curve of her jaw and the fire in her eyes.
As she descended, the room stilled. All eyes turned to her, admiration and awe rippling through the crowd. Some whispered behind their hands; others merely watched in silence, taken by her presence.
Somewhere in the corner, amidst the sea of admirers, Celeb Satana lounged with effortless grace, a glass of champagne in his hand. His gaze was sharp, lingering on Mara as if he was undressing her with his eyes. Not far from him, Ethan sat beside his grandfather, the elder man nodding approvingly while Ethan himself remained quiet, his eyes following Mara’s every movement.
Yet beyond the familiar faces, beyond the admiring stares of strangers, there were four pairs of eyes that held something deeper, something purer. Her brothers stood together, watching her with an emotion that needed no words.
Steve, the composed one, had a small, proud smile playing on his lips. Stanley, always sharp and unreadable in public, let a flicker of warmth touch his gaze. Stanford’s eyes gleamed with unmistakable admiration, and Stefan, the youngest but no less protective, looked at her as if she were the most precious thing in the world.