Chapter 953

Julian Blackwood leaned back with an amused smirk, thoroughly entertained by the unfolding spectacle. "Well, well," he drawled, nudging Rosalind Fairchild with his elbow. "Looks like Isabella's set her sights on Lucian. Who knew our ice-cold CEO had a thing for campus queens? Think he'll actually bite?"

His words were deliberately calculated to provoke a reaction.

Rosalind's manicured nails dug crescent moons into her palms.

Isabella Delacroix, the undisputed beauty of Westfield University, commanded attention wherever she went. Luxury cars lined the campus gates daily as wealthy heirs vied for her affection. Yet none had managed to capture her interest - until tonight.

The Velvet Lounge wasn't just any nightclub. This was where Metropolia's elite gathered - scions of old money and self-made moguls rubbing shoulders beneath crystal chandeliers. Isabella had come hunting, and she'd found her prey.

She'd recognized Lucian Graves immediately. The tech tycoon's sharp features and commanding presence made him impossible to miss in the sea of lesser men. When their eyes met across the crowded dance floor, Isabella felt the electric jolt of instant attraction.

Now, seizing her moment, she'd abandoned the stage mid-performance, her sequined dress catching the light as she landed gracefully in Lucian's lap.

The crowd erupted.

"Isabella just claimed Blackwood's CEO!"

"Damn, she's bold!"

"After rejecting every trust fund baby in Metropolia, she picks Quantum's founder?"

"Lucian, you lucky bastard!"

Isabella tilted her face upward, her blush visible even in the club's mood lighting. "Mr. Graves," she murmured, voice laced with honeyed innocence. "I'm Isabella from Westfield. I'd love the chance to know you better. Maybe we could exchange numbers?"

She was playing her cards perfectly - leveraging youth and beauty while feigning shyness. In her world, high-value men were rare commodities to be captured, not courted.

Before Lucian could respond, Genevieve sprang into action. With Halsey out of the picture, she'd been positioning herself as Lucian's next romantic prospect. This upstart college girl threatened her plans.

Genevieve yanked Isabella off Lucian's lap with surprising force. "Know your place, gold-digger!"

Isabella tumbled to the floor with a theatrical gasp, her dress riding up to reveal toned thighs. When she looked up, her eyes shimmered with manufactured tears. "I-I just wanted an internship opportunity at Quantum Innovations! My father's a gambler, my mother passed when I was twelve, and I'm putting my little sister through school..." Her voice broke artfully. "I didn't mean any disrespect."

The tragic backstory was textbook - designed to trigger every wealthy man's white knight complex.

"Pathetic," Genevieve sneered. "Quantum doesn't hire cocktail waitresses."

Isabella's gaze found Lucian's, her expression a masterclass in vulnerable pleading. "Mr. Graves, please..."

"Enough." Lucian's baritone cut through the tension. His expression remained unreadable as he regarded the scene. "Let her be."

That simple dismissal carried weight. In protecting Isabella, he'd made his interest clear.