As the Sparrow Charity Ball continued in full swing, the business world did what it always did best during gatherings like these.
They mingled over overpriced wine.
Exchanged business cards with smiles sharp enough to cut glass.
Laughed too loudly at unfunny jokes told by wealthy investors.
Made connections.
Built alliances.
Sold dreams.
And occasionally sold their dignity too, depending on how desperate funding season had become.
Across the ballroom, conversations flowed as smoothly as champagne. The entire venue buzzed with carefully curated ambition.
And at one particular table sat Foca.
Alone.
Radiating an aura that translated universally as:
Do not perceive me. Thank you.
It was not intentional, really.
Foca was simply existing.
Comfortably.
Quietly.
Drinking tea while minding his own business.
But somehow his mere presence intimidated people into keeping a respectful ten-foot radius around him.
Which was honestly impressive considering the man looked like he belonged in a cozy independent bookstore recommending poetry to emotionally damaged customers.
Still, something about him screamed dangerous.
Like he was too calm.
Too observant.
Too composed.
The kind of person who looked relaxed while secretly holding the power to financially ruin entire bloodlines before dessert arrived.
Honestly, people treated him like some hidden final boss.
And in a way?
They were not entirely wrong.
While Foca quietly sipped his tea, a familiar voice spoke beside him.
"You okay?"
Luca slid into the seat next to him, concern lingering openly across his face.
Foca looked up at him, confused.
"Yeah? Why wouldn't I be?"
"Well…" Luca hesitated carefully. "You saw her earlier. After all this time."
The way he said it made it sound like he was trying to disarm a bomb with his bare hands.
Foca stared at him for a second before letting out a soft chuckle.
"Why are you walking on eggshells?" he asked. "That's very unlike you."
Luca shrugged awkwardly.
"I just didn't wanna reopen old wounds."
Foca's expression softened instantly.
"I'm fine, Luca," he said gently. "Genuinely."
And the thing was?
He meant it.
Foca looked down at the tea in his hands for a moment before speaking again.
"After the initial wave of nostalgia... and the pain that came with it…" he admitted quietly, "I realized maybe I needed that."
Luca listened silently.
"I think seeing her again finally made me understand something." Foca smiled faintly. "I survived without her."
There was no bitterness in his voice anymore.
Just quiet realization.
"My life didn't fall apart after I left her. If anything…" He huffed out a small laugh. "My life became better."
And honestly?
It had.
He found people who genuinely loved him.
A family he chose for himself.
Peace.
Safety.
Warmth.
Things Hailey had never truly given him.
"So seeing her again just…" Foca searched for the right words. "Validated everything. It made me realize I really did move on."
He leaned back slightly in his chair, scarf shifting around his neck.
"I never actually needed her to live a good life."
The statement landed softly.
But with the weight of years behind it.
Foca turned toward Luca with a warm smile.
"So don't worry. I'm chilling, as you so eloquently put it."
Luca stared at him for a moment before finally exhaling in relief.
"Well," he muttered, "as long as you're okay, then I'm okay too."
Then his eyes narrowed slightly.
"But just so you know," he added immediately, "I'm still gonna mess that bitch up eventually."
Foca snorted into his tea.
"And don't even try to stop me," Luca continued firmly. "After all the shit she put you through? She's overdue for karmic consequences."
"Go ahead," Foca replied with a chuckle. "You have my full blessing."
And unfortunately for Luca's emotional stability, hearing Foca laugh that softly while looking at him like that made his heart beat a little too happily.
Like alarmingly happily.
****
While Luca was still trying to calm his suspiciously happy little heart, a soft chime suddenly sounded from Foca's phone.
Foca glanced down at the screen.
A small smirk appeared.
Tiny.
Subtle.
Dangerous.
Luca immediately narrowed his eyes.
"Dude."
"What?" Foca asked innocently.
"What the hell are you scheming?"
Foca turned toward him with an expression so innocent it practically came with angelic choir music.
Unfortunately, Luca had known him for far too long.
"Don't do that face."
"What face?"
"That face."
Foca blinked.
Luca pointed accusingly.
"The one where you pretend you're not plotting something."
"I'm not plotting anything."
"Bullshit."
Foca gasped in mock offense.
Luca remained unmoved.
"I've been your best friend for most of my life," he said flatly. "I know exactly what that little smile means."
Foca took a sip of tea.
"It means I'm happy."
"It means you're about to ruin somebody's day."
Foca considered that.
"...Both can be true."
"There it is."
A laugh escaped Foca before he quietly stood from his chair.
"Well," he said, straightening his cardigan, "I wouldn't exactly call it scheming."
Luca immediately knew he was lying.
"Then what would you call it?"
Foca adjusted his glasses.
"Let's just say..."
The smirk returned.
"...I'm bringing back the spirit this event lost a long time ago."
And instantly, Luca understood.
"Oh."
A grin slowly spread across his face.
"Oh, that's evil."
"It's not evil."
"It's a little evil."
"It's necessary."
Luca leaned back in his chair.
"You know a lot of people are going to be mad at you for ruining their plans to secure investment tonight, right?"
Foca shrugged.
"Too bad."
The answer came so quickly that Luca barked out a laugh.
"I don't really care."
Yep.
There was the final boss everyone kept talking about.
And honestly?
Luca loved seeing him like this.
Confident.
Certain.
A little petty.
As a treat.
With that, Foca made his way toward the stage, grabbing a champagne flute from a passing server along the way.
The orchestra noticed him approaching and immediately lowered their volume.
Conversations gradually began fading into murmurs.
Then silence.
"Excuse me."
Foca's voice wasn't loud.
It never needed to be.
"May I kindly ask for everyone's attention, please?"
The entire ballroom stilled.
And unlike celebrities, influencers, and socialites who often had to fight for attention...
Foca simply received it.
Particularly from the older attendees.
The billionaires.
The investors.
The people who actually moved money around like chess pieces.
The moment they recognized him, conversations stopped.
Which immediately confused everyone else.
The younger entrepreneurs especially.
Some of them exchanged looks.
Others frowned.
A few quietly groaned inside.
Because from their perspective, this was merely another interruption.
Another rich person speech.
Another toast.
Another fifteen minutes stolen from networking opportunities.
Some clenched their jaws.
Others tightened their grip around wine glasses.
Of course, none of them could openly complain.
Not while potential investors were watching.
So they endured.
Comforting themselves with the assumption that this would be over soon.
Just a toast.
A few words.
Some applause.
Then everyone could return to aggressively networking and spiritually auctioning pieces of themselves for funding.
Unfortunately for them...
Foca's plans extended far beyond a simple toast.
"Good evening, everyone."
A warm smile appeared on his face.
"My name is Foca. Not my real name, admittedly."
A few chuckles scattered throughout the ballroom.
"I'm Jonathan's youngest brother and Odette's brother-in-law."
Meanwhile, somewhere in the crowd, a certain wicked bitch was staring at him.
Hard.
Hailey's expression was a fascinating mixture of confusion, irritation, and vague familiarity.
The confusion came first.
Because she couldn't understand why so many powerful people had immediately gone silent for the man on stage.
The familiarity came second.
Something about him tugged at the back of her mind.
A voice.
A smile.
A feeling.
Like a memory she couldn't quite grab hold of.
But no matter how hard she searched, she couldn't place it.
Perhaps years of consuming brain rot content online had finally caught up to her.
Who knows?
The irritation, however?
That one was easy.
Because she had been in the middle of a conversation with a film producer before this interruption happened.
And judging by how she kept glancing toward the producer, she was probably trying to secure a role somewhere.
Perhaps a Webflix original.
The kind that gets cancelled after one season and leaves behind a fanbase of seven people and a very angry subreddit.
But that's none of my business.
Back on stage, Foca raised his glass.
"I'm here tonight because I want to raise a toast to my brother and sister-in-law as they celebrate another wonderful year of marriage."
His gaze shifted toward Jonathan and Odette.
The couple were practically attached at the hip, looking up at him with matching smiles.
"And to celebrate the incredible cause they chose to support through tonight's event."
Warm applause echoed throughout the room.
Foca waited patiently before continuing.
"And as a gift to my beloved brother and sister-in-law..."
A mischievous glimmer entered his eyes.
"...the artists of Bread Music and I have prepared a small surprise."
Jonathan's eyes immediately widened.
Odette gasped.
The two looked like children being told there were presents hidden under the Christmas tree.
"Awwww."
Jonathan placed a hand dramatically over his heart.
"Little brother prepared a surprise for us?"
The excitement in his voice was immediate and genuine.
Then he turned toward the crowd.
"Everyone sit down."
He pointed toward the stage.
"I'm serious."
People laughed.
Jonathan remained completely serious.
"Trust me. You're about to witness greatness."
That declaration alone caused even more curiosity to ripple through the ballroom.
Within moments, guests began finding seats.
Investors.
Socialites.
Celebrities.
Entrepreneurs.
Everyone.
Jonathan and Odette settled into their seats at the front of the room, perfectly positioned for the best view in the house.
On stage, Foca discreetly mouthed:
Thank you.
Jonathan immediately grinned and mouthed back:
I gotchu.
****
Once everyone had settled into their seats and the ballroom had finally quieted down, Foca returned to the microphone.
"Before we begin," he said politely, "I'd like to request that everyone uphold the unwritten rule of tonight's event."
Immediately, several longtime attendees nodded knowingly.
"What happens inside this venue stays inside this venue."
A ripple of amused smiles spread throughout the room.
"Many of the performances we've prepared tonight are still under wraps, and we'd like to keep them that way."
Now, for most attendees, this was simply an announcement.
For one particular attendee, however?
It was life-changing information.
Princess Alesha of Morocco nearly combusted on the spot.
Exclusive content?
From her biases?
Content nobody else in the world was supposed to see yet?
The princess was spiritually ascending.
Emotionally levitating.
Experiencing what scholars would classify as Advanced Fangirl Syndrome.
She was already having the greatest night of her life, and now she was being informed that there would be unreleased performances involved.
At this point, she was practically screaming on Cloud Nine.
And no one could touch her if they try.
Actually...
That sentence sounded suspiciously familiar.
Hm.
Anyways.
The moment seating became available, Princess Alesha and her equally excited royal friends practically speed-walked toward the table with the best view in the venue.
Jonathan and Odette, being the gracious hosts they were, welcomed them immediately.
And just like that, the princess secured prime seating.
A victory so significant she would probably write about it in her diary later.
Once the room settled again, Foca smiled warmly.
"Now, since tonight is dedicated to celebrating two of the most wonderful people in the world..."
Jonathan immediately pointed at himself.
"That's me."
"It is not your turn to speak," Foca replied without missing a beat.
The room erupted into laughter.
Jonathan looked personally victimized.
Odette looked delighted.
"As I was saying," Foca continued, "I'd like to ask a question."
Now, Foca knew full well that roughly ninety percent of the people in attendance had never actually spoken to Jonathan beyond a handshake and a business introduction.
This question was very much aimed at the small group of people who genuinely knew him.
The family.
The friends.
The people unfortunate enough to have experienced Jonathan in his natural habitat.
Foca adjusted the microphone slightly.
"My brother Jonathan is very well known for having..."
Before he could even finish, an answer came flying across the ballroom.
"A FUCK TON OF MONEY!"
The room immediately burst into laughter.
Jonathan pointed proudly toward the culprit.
"He's right!"
"Unfortunately," Foca said with a sigh, "that is technically correct."
More laughter followed.
"But that's not quite the answer I was looking for."
He scanned the crowd.
"Anyone else?"
A hand shot up.
"He has a resting smug face!"
Another wave of laughter rolled through the venue.
"I do have to agree with that one," Foca admitted.
Jonathan looked extremely pleased by this assessment.
Which somehow only proved the point.
"But no. Still not the answer."
The crowd continued thinking.
Then suddenly, from the De Clairmontin table:
"Healthy Ego!"
Pearl's voice rang confidently through the room.
The moment she said it, Foca snapped his fingers.
"There it is."
Jonathan gasped dramatically.
"Aww, my sister knows me so well."
"Unfortunately," Pearl deadpanned.
The venue erupted again.
Even people who barely knew Jonathan found themselves laughing.
Meanwhile, the attendees who actually knew him were nodding in agreement so hard they nearly gave themselves whiplash.
Because honestly?
Healthy Ego was probably the most accurate description possible.
To those unfamiliar with Jonathan, the phrase sounded completely ridiculous.
Several entrepreneurs exchanged confused looks.
One man looked as though he was trying to solve an advanced mathematical equation.
What the hell does Healthy Ego even mean?
But to those who knew Jonathan?
It made perfect sense.
Foca smiled as he looked toward his brother.
"Ever since I can remember, Jonathan has taken immense pride in possessing what he calls a healthy ego."
Jonathan nodded solemnly.
"As one should."
"Please stop helping me prove my point."
The room laughed again.
Foca shook his head fondly.
"For people who don't know him personally, it can be a little..."
He paused.
"A little punchable."
A roar of laughter followed.
Even Jonathan couldn't argue with that one.
"But for those who've had the privilege of truly knowing him," Foca continued, his voice softening slightly, "that confidence is also one of the reasons people respect him."
The room gradually quieted.
Because beneath all the teasing was something genuine.
Affection.
Respect.
Love.
Foca looked toward his brother.
"And so..."
A small smile appeared on his face.
"This first song is dedicated to Jonathan."
Jonathan immediately sat up straighter.
"And his Healthy Ego."
The room laughed one last time.
Foca raised his glass slightly.
"I hope you like it, brother."
****
PS: Guys, I'm alive! 😭
First of all, I'm so sorry for disappearing and not being able to update for such a long time.
Work has been absolutely beating my ass, and to make things even more fun, I got sick on top of that. Talk about a combo attack.
I'm still in the recovery stage, but I wanted to at least put out a chapter or two for you guys while I'm getting back on my feet.
Seriously though, thank you all so much for sticking with me and Foca throughout all this time. Every comment, vote, meme, emotional breakdown, and unhinged reaction means more to me than you know.
The fact that so many of you continue to come back and support this story honestly blows my mind sometimes.
Thank you for your patience.
Thank you for your support.
And thank you for continuing to love these chaotic little gremlins as much as I do.
I love you guys. 😘❤️
Now excuse me while I continue my recovery and try not to get folded by life again. 😭