Sweet For You, Ruthless For Others
Chapter 27: Meeting Jasmine Again.

Chapter 27: Meeting Jasmine Again.

The blood rushed to my cheeks, but I met his gaze steadily, tilting my head ever so slightly. "Thank you," I said smoothly, letting my lips curve into a soft, knowing smile. "It’s always nice to be appreciated."

Before he could reply, another voice entered the conversation—deep, rich, and laced with intrigue.

"It’s not just appreciation—it’s admiration."

I turned to find a slightly older gentleman, his salt-and-pepper hair lending him an air of distinction. He extended his hand, his gaze sharp with curiosity.

"I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Charles Renwick."

Renwick. My mind spun at the name. One of the biggest investors in Dad’s company?

I masked my surprise with a perfectly poised smile, slipping my hand into his. "Hermia Blackwood," I introduced myself, my voice steady despite the rapid thrum of my heart.

"Ah, Blackwood," Charles echoed, recognition sparking in his eyes. "I must say, you’ve certainly inherited a flair for making an impression."

I let out a light, almost playful chuckle. "I do my best."

From across the room, I felt the weight of their stares—Mariela and Selena, watching like circling vultures.

Selena’s grip on her champagne flute tightened, her knuckles whitening as she hissed, "Look at her, acting like she belongs here."

Mariela’s expression remained composed, but her eyes, cool and calculating, held something dangerous. "Let her have her moment," she murmured, taking a deliberate sip of her wine. "The higher she climbs, the harder the fall."

Typical.

Meanwhile, I basked in the newfound attention, graciously accepting compliments from high-profile guests. They assessed, judged, and mentally categorized me, deciding whether I was worth their time.

Fine. Let them.

Enhanced Scene: Hermia’s Social Triumph

As the evening unfolded, I moved effortlessly through the crowd, my smile polished, my words measured yet engaging. CEOs, artists, and philanthropists leaned in when I spoke, intrigued by my insights, charmed by my poise. The champagne in my glass barely lessened, yet I raised it at the right moments, letting the golden liquid reflect the warm glow of the chandeliers.

I had perfected this dance—charming without appearing desperate, confident without being arrogant.

Yet, my mind remained sharp, my true focus unwavering.

My father’s acquaintances.

I needed to leave an impression. Something powerful enough that when they met with him, my name would slip into conversation, attached to words like brilliant and capable instead of unnecessary and forgotten.

"Miss Blackwood," a deep voice broke into my thoughts, drawing my attention.

I turned gracefully, my lips curving into a practiced smile. The man before me was tall, impeccably dressed, and exuded quiet authority. A name clicked in my mind before he could introduce himself—Jonathan Pierce, a longtime business associate of my father.

"Mr. Pierce," I greeted smoothly, extending my hand.

He shook it firmly, his gaze assessing but not unkind. "I must say, you carry yourself well. Your father is a fortunate man to have such a daughter."

I held his gaze, keeping my expression light. "I’d like to think so, but I’m not sure he quite realizes it yet," I replied playfully, though the words carried an edge of truth.

Jonathan chuckled, intrigued. "And do you plan to change his mind?"

"Absolutely," I said without hesitation. "I’ve spent years observing, learning. Now that I’m stepping into the professional world, I intend to prove I can be an asset—not just to my father, but to the business itself."

Another man, standing nearby, chimed in with an approving nod. "That’s the kind of ambition I like to see. Far better than sitting around gossiping and waiting for life to happen."

The comment wasn’t directed at me, yet the subtle shift in the air told me exactly who it was aimed at.

From across the room, Selena sat perched in her seat, eyes narrowed as she whispered furiously to Mariela. Her perfectly manicured fingers gripped the stem of her champagne glass as if the delicate crystal was the only thing keeping her from snapping.

Another guest chuckled lightly. "To be honest, I never understood why Selena never attempted to engage in anything meaningful at these events. She just sits, watches, and gossips. It’s a shame, really."

My lips twitched as I fought back a smirk.

Someone else leaned in, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "Hermia, when you officially join your father’s company, I’d love to work with you. Fresh minds with vision are exactly what this industry needs."

The words sent a thrill down my spine. This was it. The kind of conversation that mattered.

I tilted my head, meeting his gaze directly. "That means a lot, truly. I’ll be honored to collaborate when the time comes."

More murmurs of agreement followed. I could feel the shift—I wasn’t just being acknowledged; I was being taken seriously.

Selena must have realized it too because when I glanced in her direction, her expression was murderous.

Mariela, however, simply smirked, swirling the wine in her glass as if watching a well-played chess move.

Let her have her moment... the higher she climbs, the harder the fall.

I met her gaze head-on and smiled.

Let’s see about that.

A round of applause broke through my thoughts.

At the center of attention stood the host’s wife and daughters—one draped in a dazzling emerald gown, effortlessly commanding the room. I envied her, not for her beauty, but for how easily she belonged

Then my gaze shifted to her sister.

She stood beside her, smiling, but something was off. Was I overthinking it, or did her eyes carry a sadness that didn’t match her expression?

I sighed, swirling the champagne in my glass. One step at a time, Hermia. Tonight wasn’t about them. Tonight was about me.

I moved through the crowd, pretending not to hear the murmurs that followed in my wake.

"Who is she?"

"I’ve never seen anyone carry themselves like that before."

A small smile played at my lips.

I was no longer just the overlooked daughter. No longer the shadow to Selena’s dominance.

Tonight, I was Hermia Blackwood.

And they were going to remember me.

Then—

"Hermia?"

I turned, startled.

Standing before me was a face I hadn’t expected to see so soon.

"Jasmine?" My voice held disbelief. Of all the places...

Jasmine let out an excited squeal, completely oblivious to the poised, refined atmosphere of the event. She practically lunged at me, throwing her arms around me dramatically.

"Bestie!"

I blinked, stunned, before hesitantly returning the hug. "I—wow. I didn’t think I’d see you again. Especially not here. We didn’t even exchange contacts."

"I swear, I started to think you were just a dream," Jasmine gushed, shaking me by the shoulders like we were long-lost soulmates.

The elegant crowd around us murmured in response.

"They didn’t even exchange contacts, and she’s calling her bestie?"

"Jasmine is like the it girl in our circles. How does this nobody know her?"

"This has to be fake."

I could feel Selena’s seething jealousy before I even turned.

Her eyes burned into me, lips curled in a sneer. "I see she already has her loser best friend. How many does she need?" she muttered to Mariela, who smirked in quiet agreement.

Jasmine, completely unfazed by the whispers or the toxic stares, pulled back to give me an approving once-over.

"Your dress is fire, girl! I’m so proud of you!" She clapped her hands together like I’d just won an award.

Heat crept up my neck at the compliment, my lips curving into an unrestrained smile. "You look stunning yourself," I admitted. "I didn’t expect to see you here."

Jasmine waved a perfectly manicured hand. "Oh, I came with my brother. He insisted, as always."

She turned, motioning toward a tall, brooding figure leaning against the bar, his drink in hand, expression sharp as a blade.

I followed her gaze, my brows furrowing slightly. "He looks... angry."

Jasmine snorted. "That’s just his resting face. He’s best friends with Niklaus, after all. I can’t expect either of them to ever look pleasant."

My stomach did an odd little flip.

"Niklaus?"

She rolled her eyes, exasperated. "Niklaus Hathaway. The coldest, most ruthless person I know." She sipped her drink before adding dryly, "After my brother, of course."

Niklaus Hathaway.

The name sent an unexplainable shiver down my spine.

Jasmine caught my expression, her gaze narrowing with suspicion. "Wait a minute... you don’t believe me, do you?"

I hesitated. "It’s not that," I said quickly, feeling my face heat up. "It’s just... he’s been a bit... nice to me."

Jasmine’s reaction was immediate.

She slammed her glass onto the table, her jaw dropping in sheer disbelief. "Niklaus? Nice? To you?"

The sheer absurdity of the statement left her reeling. She leaned in, eyes gleaming with curiosity.

"I refuse to believe this. I have to see it for myself."