Drake’s birthday banquet was held at the Imperial Palace Hotel, the grandest venue in paris.
Each of his birthday celebrations sent ripples through the entire city, with over a dozen media outlets vying for coverage and countless reporters camped outside the hotel.
Rumors had somehow leaked that Drake would officially introduce his girlfriend today.
Though everyone knew him as New York’s most notorious playboy, with women flocking around him like moths to a flame, it was common knowledge that he never took any of them seriously.
The only woman he had ever publicly acknowledged in front of the media was Sarah, the cherished daughter of the Lush family, a few years prior.
Sarah, the sole heiress of Lush family, had once been hailed as the perfect match for Drake—a golden couple, seemingly destined for each other.
So when she abruptly announced their breakup at a press conference, the entire city’s media and gossipmongers were left utterly stunned.
Inside the opulent hotel ballroom, the air buzzed with excitement.
A magnificent chandelier hung from the ceiling, surrounded by smaller warm-toned pendant lights that cast a radiant glow.
The moment one stepped into the hall, the soothing melody of a classic foreign piano piece filled the air.
Beside the grand piano stood an artificial rockery with a gently trickling stream, while surrounding musical fountains bloomed like intricate floral sculptures.
The sharp click of high heels echoed against the white marble floor as guests mingled, champagne glasses clinking, their faces alight with smiles brighter than if they were celebrating their own birthdays.
A sleek black Rolls-Royce pulled up, and the door swung open.
Lucas stepped out, dressed in a tailored navy-blue suit, his hair impeccably groomed.
He had even donned a pair of glasses for the occasion, softening the sharp angles of his chiseled features.
His striking, well-defined bone structure exuded an air of authority, every inch the industry titan.
His sun-kissed complexion gave him an aura of vitality.
The moment he entered, the entire room seemed to freeze.
Guests straightened their postures, champagne flutes in hand, their gazes fixed on him with respectful smiles.
In an instant, the lively banquet hall fell into complete silence.
It wasn’t until Beauty stepped out of the car, dressed in a soft lavender tulle dress with slightly curled locks cascading over her shoulders.
Her delicate, white arm was intimately looped through Lucas’s, her smile demure yet radiant.
"Who’s that stunning beauty with Lucas?
Which family’s daughter is she?"
"No idea, but she’s been accompanying him to all the high-profile events these past couple of years.
Lucky her—getting to stay by his side like that..."
The moment Beauty appeared, whispers rippled through the grand hall.
Eyes darted her way, speculative and envious, as murmurs swirled around her.
"Lucas, Beauty, glad you could make it."
The birthday honoree, Drake, parted the crowd and strode toward Lucas, greeting him with a warm hug and a faint smile.
Just as he turned to embrace Beauty, Lucas’s arm shot out, blocking him.
"Don’t even think about it."
His icy tone sent an involuntary shiver down spines.
Beauty stifled a giggle behind her hand, her gaze lingering on Drake.
Tonight, he was dressed in a sharp British-style suit—the same exorbitantly priced one worn by an international supermodel during Fashion Week just last week.
Paired with his jet-black hair, he looked like a heartthrob straight out of a manga.
"Lucas, you’re getting more possessive by the day.
Beauty hasn’t even complained..."
"Uncle Drake, you look absolutely dashing today—like a character who just stepped out of a comic!"
Beauty’s eyes sparkled with mischief as she flashed him a radiant smile.
Drake crossed his arms, his brow slightly furrowed as he glared at her, clearly irritated by that sickeningly sweet form of address.
"What the hell is a ’torn-from-comics guy’?"
A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he leaned in, studying her doll-like, porcelain face.
He was just about to ruffle her silky hair when Lucas’s icy stare stopped him cold.
Beauty grinned, utterly unbothered.
"A ’torn-from-comics guy’ is a drop-dead gorgeous man who looks like he just stepped out of a manga—like you, Uncle Drake."
A vein throbbed in his temple.
"Don’t call me ’uncle.’
Call me ’Drake.’ And why aren’t you calling Lucas ’uncle’?" ɴᴇᴡ ɴᴏᴠᴇʟ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs ᴀʀᴇ ᴘᴜʙʟɪsʜᴇᴅ ᴏɴ N0veI.Fiɾe.net
I can’t exactly call him ’uncle,’ can I?
You’re his best friend, so by seniority, shouldn’t I address you as ’uncle’?
You’re the elder here—I should show you respect."
Drake was momentarily speechless, scrambling for a comeback.
Defeated, he clapped Lucas on the shoulder with exaggerated solemnity.
"How the hell do you handle this little firecracker?"
"My digestive system’s better than yours.
And I outperform you in *other* areas too."
Lucas tilted his chin down slightly, one brow arched as he delivered the low, deliberate remark.
The two men locked eyes for a second before smirking.
Watching them whisper like schoolboys, Beauty shuddered, rubbing her arms.
The air conditioning was cranked up way too high—she could practically feel goosebumps forming.
"Since when were you so big on respecting your elders?
With a sly smile, he turned around to see Samantha approaching gracefully in a flowing floor-length gown.
The overhead lights cast patterns on the floor like blooming lotus flowers.
Her chestnut hair cascaded down to her waist, swaying with every step—a woman of undeniable charm, no wonder Drake was smitten.
"President Lucas, you’re here.
And this must be the Beauty that Drake often mentions.
We haven’t had the chance to properly greet each other before."
Samantha’s gaze lingered subtly on Beauty’s face and figure, her lips curving into a faint, measured smile.
Beauty extended her hand with effortless poise, shaking Samantha’s.
The two women studied each other with quiet suspicion, their expressions thoughtful.
She hadn’t paid much attention before, but now, seeing Samantha up close, she had to admit the woman was stunning—though her beauty was nothing like Sarah’s.
They were completely different.
Compared to Samantha’s allure, Sarah’s elegance was serene, like a painting that soothed the soul.
"Where’s Sarah? I don’t see her."
Samantha’s lips curled into a smile as she glanced at Lucas, scanning the room for that familiar, composed, and aloof figure.
"Miss Sarah will probably arrive a little later.
She’ll definitely come," Beauty interjected quickly.
Perhaps because of her initial impression of Sarah, she didn’t have the best opinion of Samantha.
After all, she knew the two had been childhood best friends—and now Samantha was with Sarah’s ex-boyfriend.
The whole situation felt... uncomfortable.
Drake led Samantha away to mingle with other guests, leaving Beauty hoping to find a quiet corner to sit and snack.
But before she could, Lucas pulled her onto the dance floor.
Dancing with him in front of so many people made her nervous.
Lucas was, after all, one of the most prominent figures in New York, and with countless media cameras trained on him, standing beside him made her feel like she didn’t know where to put her hands and feet.