Chapter Five:Lancaster Blood

Cassandra’s voice still lingered in their ears as she waved them off the night before. “Have fun, everyone. Tomorrow begins a new chapter. Get ready.”

And so the first morning of the Lion Festival dawned, warm and golden.

At Zara’s company headquarters, the glass walls glittered against the sun. Inside, the mood was electric. Zara had brought Zoe along to help oversee preparations for her upcoming fashion show—an event that would feature swimsuits, evening wear, and daring new pieces designed to catch every eye.

The boardroom was alive with chatter. Johnny, the sharp-tongued editor, was seated at the end of the long table, his pen tapping restlessly against his notepad. Maya, the secretary, had already stacked files in front of Zara, her glasses sliding slightly down her nose. A handful of other assistants hovered by the screen where models’ profiles were displayed one by one.

“Let’s start with Gill Walker,” Zara said, her tone firm but curious. She tapped the table, summoning the young model’s picture onto the screen. “Perfect skin tone, flawless evenness… and that hair—long, kinky curls, strong and wild. She’ll command attention.”

Zoe leaned forward, eyes sparkling. “Jalyn is a star. She’ll fit beautifully.”

“What about Sasha Lee?” Johnny interrupted, his brow arched. The next image appeared, a woman with sharp cheekbones and long legs. “Thick build, confident walk. She knows how to own the runway.”

“Sasha will do well,” Maya murmured, scribbling a note. “But she can be… temperamental.”

Zara waved a hand. “Temperament is manageable. Talent isn’t. She’s in.”

One by one, the names came— Bintu , with her shaven head and simple but bold aura. Iris is graceful as a whisper but with eyes that could silence a room. The team debated fiercely, but in the end, Zara’s voice carried the final weight.

When the list was complete, they moved down to the vault, a cool chamber where the specimens were kept. White sheets were pulled back to reveal racks of garments—swimsuits shimmering like liquid gold, gowns stitched with precision, fabrics flowing soft as water. The air smelled faintly of cotton and clean fibres.

“Check every seam,” Zara ordered. “Every stitch, every edge. No fraying. No weakness.”

They worked methodically, lifting fabrics to the light, brushing fingers across hems. Cotton had been dried and stored to perfection, fibers crisp but alive, their quality preserved like treasure. Zara oversaw it all with a calculating eye, her expression unreadable.

At last, Zara stepped close, lowering her voice so only Zoe and Johnny could hear. “Everything must be perfect,” she said. “No mistakes I mean none do understand me we have have to make a good impression to everyone and we also have to make bigger sales this time because last me made 750,000 whiles we spent more than that tell everyone to on their best behavior. Zara warned, but they knew she was right .

When the work was finished, she returned to her office, exhaustion weighing on her shoulders. But as she reached her desk, she saw it—an envelope of ivory paper, sealed with a wax crest. The mark of the Lancaster family.

She broke the seal carefully. Inside was a single card, written in sweeping gold script:

You are cordially invited to the Lancaster Ball.

The words gleamed, heavy with meaning.

And as Zara stared at the invitation, the glass doors behind her slid open.

“Zara,” a deep voice said, smooth but unfamiliar.

She turned—and froze. Standing in the doorway was a man she did not expect to see, one who carried the unmistakable bearing the Lancaster blood.

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