2025-04-18 18:53:14A small crowd of Exquisitely made Designer gowns, and expensive Armani suits and tuxedos were present in the Grand Hall, some with champagne flutes in their hands, chatting and socializing. The celebration was the highlight of the Month.
Mirano Heir returns
The soft melody of classical music thrummed through the air, courtesy of Eleanor, as it was her favorite kind of music.
Nerves crackled through him, anxiety beginning to peek its ugly head. A couple passed by him as he walked towards the main entrance. They greeted him so politely and he smiled back, a stark contrast to the turmoil within him.
Shane-Leo’s jaw clenched in envy as they passed by him. Pain eating away at his heart. He straightened his tie, and took a deep breath, a futile attempt to project an air of confidence.
He was about to walk past the security, presuming they would already know who he was. "Sir, may I see your invitation?" A stern-faced doorman inquired, his gaze as sharp as his impeccably tailored uniform, blocked his path, his voice polite but firm.
Shane-Leo fumbled in his pocket, a cold dread creeping up his spine. He hadn't considered needing an invitation – surely his presence as the returning heir would be enough.
"I, uh," he stammered, "I don't have one. I'm Shane-Leo Mirano."
The doorman's eyebrows shot up. "Mr. Mirano? But the guest list..." He trailed off; his voice laced with uncertainty. The doorman's eyebrows rose a fraction of an inch. "Apologies, sir, but formal protocol requires an invitation for entry."
Just as Shane-Leo considered whipping out his phone and calling Blake for confirmation, a voice sliced through the tense silence. A voice he knew all too well.
"Shane-Leo?" Norah’s voice, laced with a hint of surprise, pierced the tense silence.
He turned to see Norah, his ex-wife, standing a few feet away. She looked radiant in a shimmering emerald gown, but his gaze was quickly drawn to the man beside her, a tall, broad-shouldered figure with a smug expression plastered on his face.
Norah's smile faltered for a brief moment, then recovered quickly as they came closer. What did she expect? Not to see him there? Of course!
A surge of anger, hot and unexpected, flared in his chest.
"Norah," Shane-Leo acknowledged, his voice tight. "What are you doing here?"
“I should be asking you that Shane-Leo,” she paused and looked at his suit. Valentino? It’s probably borrowed anyway, or rented from a store. She shook her head, and wondered, why he is he so cheap?
Her gaze flicked over him, a flicker of something akin to pity crossing her features before a sneer settled on her lips. "Shane-Leo? What are you doing here? Stalking me?"
"Stalking you?" he scoffed.
The man beside Norah, his arm possessively around her waist, stepped forward. "Is this your loser ex-husband, Norah?" His voice dripped with disdain.
Shane-Leo bristled. "Loser? I wouldn't call myself a loser," he retorted, suppressing his anger.
"And Who are you?" he challenged the man, his gaze turning steely.
Norah, a touch of defiance in her eyes, straightened her posture. "He’s Anderson Quinn," she said, her voice clipped. "My business partner."
Anderson, however, seemed to have a different interpretation of their relationship. Because the way he was being touchy with the woman he loved angered him to no ends.
And what infuriated him the more was the fact that Norah allowed it.
Anderson scoffed, “Such a loser! Don’t you at least have shame? This is a high-class event. What is a scum like you even doing here?” His eyes conveyed pure disgust.
He was merely showing off, trying to bad mouth him in front of Norah.
This fucker
The words hung heavy in the air, a blatant insult that sent a jolt of fury coursing through Shane-Leo. He took a step forward, his voice low and menacing.
Shane-Leo frowned, the air around him crackling with a silent tension. He wasn't here for a fight, especially not in front of the doorman who was now scrutinizing them with a raised eyebrow.
He had a feeling this night was going to be a whirlwind, and he didn't want it to start with a public brawl with his ex-wife and her overly aggressive companion.
With a curt nod to Norah and a pointed look at Anderson, he began to turn away.
Shane-Leo stopped in his tracks as Anderson, cleared his throat. "Look, buddy," he began, his voice laced with a false sense of support, "If you're here looking for a job as a waiter or something, I might be able to help. I know the host of this party pretty well." “Oh really?”
“Of course,” He drawled, “But I will help you, only if you kneel in front of me and beg.” He finished with a smirk.
Shane-Leo's lips twitched in amusement. The irony of the situation wasn't lost on him. Here he was, the rightful heir to this very mansion, being mistaken for a lowly servant by his ex-wife's arrogant companion.
The arrogance dripping from his words was enough to make Shane-Leo clench his fists. The audacity of the man, to belittle him like some lowly worker, was almost laughable.
A dangerous glint flickered in Anderson's eyes, a hint of something more sinister than mere arrogance. It was a challenge, an attempt to assert dominance in front of Norah.
He could not believe the mediocrity of the situation and the idiot Norah planned to replace him with. It was almost disrespectful, because that was a downgrade, and even she knew it.
The urge to wipe that smug smile off his face was intense. But then, a mischievous glint sparked in his eyes. He decided to play along, to see how far Anderson's inflated ego would take him.
"Really?" Shane-Leo drawled, feigning interest. "That would be…helpful. See, I'm a bit…down on my luck these days. I mean, as you know, even my beloved wife left me."
Norah scoffed, "Shane-Leo, don't be ridiculous."
He ignored her, keeping his gaze fixed on Anderson. "So, what kind of connections do you have with the host? Are we talking a friendly handshake or a full-blown backslapping kind of relationship?"
Anderson, oblivious to the undercurrent of sarcasm, puffed up his chest even further. "Let's just say," he leaned in, "that a simple word from me could have you pouring champagne for the high rollers in no time."
Shane-Leo couldn't help but let out a low chuckle, the sound rich with amusement.
With a scoff, the turned to leave again.
Norah's eyes widened, a flicker of something akin to disappointment crossing her face. Perhaps she hadn't anticipated him leaving so easily. Maybe she'd expected to grovel at Anderson’s feet and thank him for the job offer, but he did not need it.
"Shane-Leo, wait!" Norah called out; her voice laced with a hint of panic. It was a stark contrast to the cold indifference she'd displayed moments earlier.
He paused, his back still to her.
"What is it, Norah?" he asked, his voice, heavy with exhaustion.
"Don't leave," she pleaded, her voice softer now. "At least take the job offer, so you can build something for yourself."
He turned slowly, his gaze cool and assessing. "You want me to grovel at his feet?” He scoffed, disbelief and disgust clouding his features. He was perplexed by her sense of reasoning.
“You want me to take a job offer from your new boyfriend? One you decided to get with just a day after our divorce?" he said, anger evident in his tone.
"Shane-Leo," Norah began, her hand reaching out to touch his arm, but he remained unmoving. "He's just...a business partner. We have business together."
"Business that requires him to hold you like a possessive boyfriend? Don’t make me laugh." Shane-Leo countered, a hint of sarcasm creeping into his voice.
"Actually," he drawled, his voice dripping with condescension, "I don’t need his offer. Besides, he might not have the kind of connections he claims he does."
Anderson bristled, his face reddening with anger. “I got a Gold Aviator invitation card! Of course, a low class nobody like you won’t know what that means. It means I’m a high-class investor, respected in the industry,” He continued, “We both know you’re nothing without Norah’s money.”
"Anderson, please," she hissed, shooting him a silencing glance.
Then, she turned back to Shane-Leo, her eyes pleading. "Do I need to beg you to make something reasonable out of yourself? Why are you so stubborn now?"
"Norah," he said finally, his voice firm. "I came here for one reason, and it seems there's been a misunderstanding."
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The city lights blurred into streaks of neon as Shane-Leo wandered the streets, the sting of betrayal a constant dull ache in his chest. Sleep evaded him, the events of the previous night replaying on a relentless loop in his mind. Every harsh word, every cold glance, felt like a fresh wound.One moment, anger flared, hot and raw, at Norah's betrayal. The next, a wave of despair washed over him, threatening to drown him in a sea of self-doubt.The memory of his past, a stark contrast to his present reality, surfaced. At the age of eighteen, banished from his wealthy family.He rested his head back and closed his eyes. Flashbacks from the day he left, flooding his mind.The air crackled with nervous anticipation as 18-year-old Shane-Leo stood before his parents, Theodore and Eleanor Mirano. The grand mahogany study, adorned with portraits of stern-faced ancestors, felt suffocating despite the cool evening breeze wafting through the open windows."Shane-Leo," his father, Theodore, be
