Sweet For You, Ruthless For Others
Chapter 24: Kind Words.

Chapter 24: Kind Words.

Hermia’s POV

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"Just be yourself."

Easier said than done.

I exhaled sharply, willing the nerves out of my system. Overthinking wouldn’t change a damn thing. With a determined nod, I pulled up the Uber app and ordered a ride. That was it—no turning back now.

I turned toward the mirror hanging on my bedroom wall, pausing for one last look.

The dress was breathtaking—elegant, effortlessly perfect, clinging to my frame like it had been made just for me. A dress like this belonged in ballrooms, under chandeliers, in the arms of someone powerful enough to command attention. Someone like Niklaus Hathaway.

A shiver ran down my spine. Not now. Not him.

I tore my gaze away and let out a groan as my stomach grumbled in protest. God, I need to eat.

Descending the grand staircase, I followed the comforting scent of herbs and spices wafting from the kitchen. The aroma alone was enough to soothe some of my nerves.

Inside, Mr. Grayson stood at the counter, chopping vegetables with a precision that came from years of experience. The moment he spotted me, his hands stilled, and a slow smile spread across his face.

"Miss Hermia," he greeted, his gruff voice warm with affection. "You look... breathtaking."

A shy smile tugged at my lips as I smoothed down the dress. "Thank you, Mr. Grayson. You’re too kind."

He set the knife down and crossed his arms, giving me a look that felt both fatherly and knowing. "Big evening, huh?"

I nodded, keeping my tone casual. "Something like that. Dad invited me."

His brows shot up. "Oh wow, you look ready for anything."

I forced a small smile. "I am."

Mr. Grayson gave a slow nod before his expression turned serious. "Have you eaten?"

I hesitated. "I was just going to grab a snack before I left."

He clicked his tongue in disapproval. "Miss Hermia, you know better than to leave this house on an empty stomach. And don’t tell me you plan to eat at the event—those places serve food that’s more decoration than nourishment."

A small chuckle escaped me. "I’m fine, really."

He wasn’t convinced. Shaking his head, he turned toward the pantry. "You’ll ruin your dress if you eat a full meal now. Let me make you something light. You need energy, but we can’t have you spilling anything on that beautiful gown."

I sighed but didn’t protest. Mr. Grayson had always looked out for me, sneaking me meals when Mariela’s cruelty was particularly unbearable. Without him, there had been days I might have gone hungry entirely.

Minutes later, he placed a small plate in front of me—a neatly cut sandwich and a handful of fresh fruit.

"There," he said with satisfaction. "Nothing heavy, but it’ll keep you going."

"Thank you," I murmured, my voice softer than I intended. I took a bite, humming in appreciation.

Mr. Grayson leaned against the counter, watching me with an expression that was both protective and amused. "You know, if I were thirty years younger, I’d be your date tonight. You’re going to steal the show, Miss Hermia."

I laughed, the sound bright and genuine. "You’re such a flatterer, Mr. Grayson."

"It’s not flattery if it’s true," he replied with a wink.

Finishing the last bite, I stood and grabbed my clutch. "I’d better get going before my Uber leaves without me."

He nodded but gave me a look that was half warning, half encouragement. "Remember, keep your chin up, and don’t let anyone make you feel small tonight."

I swallowed, his words settling deep. "I won’t," I promised, my smile filled with gratitude.

As I turned to leave, his voice followed me. "And if anyone gives you trouble, you send them my way!"

I laughed again, shaking my head as I stepped outside.

The cool evening air wrapped around me as I walked down the path, my dress flowing like liquid silk around my ankles. The last rays of the setting sun bathed the fabric in gold, making me look almost ethereal.

I was barely halfway down the path when I spotted Carlos, the gardener, leaning casually against his motorcycle.

"You’re not walking all the way to the gate in that dress," he called, straightening as I approached.

I blinked in surprise. "I don’t mind walking. It’s not that far."

Carlos scoffed, shaking his head. "Not far? You’ll ruin those shoes before you even get to the car. Come on, hop on. I’ll take you to the gate."

I hesitated, glancing down at my dress. "Are you sure? I don’t want to mess up—"

"You won’t," he interrupted with a grin. "I’ll make sure of it."

Reluctantly, I nodded and climbed onto the back of the motorcycle, clutching my bag tightly.

Carlos kicked the bike into gear, and we sped down the driveway, the wind teasing my hair, the scent of freshly cut grass filling the air. The short ride was exhilarating in a way I hadn’t expected.

As we reached the gate, he slowed to a stop, his usual playful grin softer now.

"There you go," he said as I climbed off carefully. "You look amazing, Hermia. Whoever you’re meeting tonight is lucky to have you there."

I hesitated for a split second, my cheeks heating. "Thank you, Carlos. For everything."

He tipped an imaginary hat before revving the engine and speeding back toward the house.

As if on cue, my Uber pulled up, sleek and silent. I took a deep breath, smoothing my dress one last time before stepping forward.

Sliding into the back seat, I clasped my hands together, twisting the strap of my clutch as nerves tightened in my chest.

What if tonight didn’t go as planned?

What if I was walking straight into another humiliation?

I clenched my fists. My sister would already be there, glowing in the center of attention, basking in the approval of our father’s connections. I had spent the entire day psyching myself up to face them, but now, as the city lights blurred past, doubt crept in like an unwanted shadow.

"We’re here," the Uber driver announced, his voice pulling me from my spiraling thoughts.

I blinked, "Oh. Right," I said, shaking off my confusion. I gave the driver a quick smile. "Thank you."t before urning to look outside.

The venue loomed ahead—grand, imposing, bathed in golden light.

I swallowed hard.

Then, straightening my shoulders, I forced a smile and whispered to myself, "Showtime."