The morning after the gala, Eurydice Santiago woke up feeling like she had survived a war.
Not a real war, of course—just the kind where you publicly humiliate yourself in front of one of the most powerful men in the city and then become the hottest gossip among your coworkers.
So, naturally, the best way to recover?
Coffee. Lots and lots of coffee.
And maybe a little bit of art therapy.
The scent of freshly brewed coffee and warm pastries wrapped around her the moment she stepped into Santiago’s Sweets, her family’s bakery.
The morning rush had just started, and the tiny shop was already buzzing with energy—regular customers chatting over breakfast, the whir of the espresso machine, and the soft clatter of trays being placed on tables.
Her mother, Isabel Santiago, stood behind the counter, expertly assembling a to-go order, while her younger brother, Leo Santiago, sat at a corner table, laptop open, occasionally stealing a bite of a croissant.
“You’re up early,” Isabel commented without looking up. “I thought you’d sleep in after last night’s incident.”
Eurydice groaned. “I was trying to erase that from my memory, Mom. Thanks for bringing it back.”
Leo snickered. “Erase it? You should be documenting it for history. ‘The Night Eurydice Santiago Took Down a Billionaire’s Suit.’”
She shot him a glare before grabbing a coffee from the counter. “I should have let Mom drop you when you were a baby.”
Isabel sighed. “Enough, you two.” Then she gave Eurydice a knowing look. “So… you’re not actually going to forget about it, are you?”
Eurydice hesitated, stirring her coffee.
Forget? No. That wasn’t really an option.
She’d spent all night replaying the scene in her head—the grand ballroom, the way the golden chandeliers reflected off the marble floors, the sea of perfectly dressed elites, and, of course, Conrad Montague himself. The way he had looked at her.
Not with anger. Not even with amusement. Just… unreadable. Calculating. Like he had been memorizing her.
It was unsettling. It was terrifying.
And, much to her frustration, it was inspiring.
“I mean,” Eurydice said slowly, tapping her fingers against her cup, “the ballroom was really pretty.”
Leo raised an eyebrow. “You spilled wine on a billionaire, and that’s what you took away from it?”
“Shut up, I’m an artist.”
An hour later, Eurydice arrived at Studio Lirio, the small art gallery where she worked part-time.
The gallery was quiet in the mornings, sunlight filtering in through the windows, casting soft shadows over the wooden floors and blank canvases waiting to be filled. It was the perfect place to clear her mind.
Or, in today’s case, the perfect place to channel her very complicated emotions into something productive.
She grabbed a stool, pulled out her sketchbook, and let her mind drift back to the Montague Hotel’s ballroom—the richness of the setting, the details she had barely had time to absorb last night.
With swift, confident strokes, she started sketching.
The ballroom took shape first—high ceilings, gilded columns, crystal chandeliers dripping light like golden rain.
Then, the figures—elegant guests dressed in the finest gowns and tuxedos, frozen mid-conversation, their laughter silent but alive on the page.
Finally, in the center of it all, she began sketching a man in a perfectly tailored suit, his presence commanding despite the way he stood just slightly apart from the crowd.
She didn’t have to think about the details—the sharp angles of his face, the way his dark hair fell effortlessly in place, the piercing gaze that made her feel like he saw too much.
The pencil in her hand stilled.
Eurydice blinked.
She had just sketched Conrad Montague.
She groaned, dropping her head onto the table. “Oh my God.”
“New piece?” a familiar voice asked.
Eurydice jolted upright as Celeste Ramirez, the gallery owner, walked past, glancing at her sketchpad with mild curiosity.
“Oh, uh—” Eurydice flipped the page way too fast. “Nothing! Just… messing around.”
Celeste smirked. “If you say so. But whatever ‘messing around’ you’re doing, keep at it. That’s the most focused I’ve seen you all week.”
Eurydice sighed, rubbing her forehead. Yeah, that’s the problem.
Because, apparently, instead of forgetting about last night, her brain had decided to turn it into inspiration.
And worse?
That annoyingly perfect businessman was now living rent-free in her sketchbook.
That evening, Eurydice sat at the dining table with her family, savoring the comfort of home-cooked food.
After a long day of sketching, nothing felt better than Isabel’s cooking—steaming rice, grilled chicken, and a side of roasted vegetables.
She had just taken a bite when the front door swung open.
“Ay, there’s my favorite niece!”
Eurydice nearly choked. She didn’t even have to turn around to know the voice belonged to Tía Carmen—her mother’s older sister and self-appointed family matchmaker.
“Oh no,” Leo muttered, stuffing more rice into his mouth like he was bracing for impact.
Isabel sighed, already knowing where this was going. “Carmen, we just sat down. At least let us finish dinner before you start plotting.”
Carmen waved her off and plopped into the chair next to Eurydice, all smiles and barely contained excitement. “Now, now, this is important! I found the perfect match for Eurydice.”
Eurydice dropped her fork. “No. Absolutely not.”
Carmen ignored her. “He’s a wonderful young man—polite, has a stable job, very handsome.” She leaned in. “And he’s free tomorrow night.”
Leo snorted. “Eury, you’re so doomed.”
Eurydice turned to her mom, pleading. “Mom, please tell her no.”
Isabel sighed. “Carmen, you know how she feels about blind dates.”
Carmen scoffed. “She’s too picky! What, does she expect Prince Charming to just fall into her lap?”
Leo smirked. “Technically, a billionaire did fall into her lap. Or, well… she fell onto him—with wine.”
Eurydice threw a napkin at him.
Carmen gasped. “Wait, what? You met a billionaire?”
Eurydice groaned, covering her face. “Why did I come home?”
Carmen clapped her hands. “This is even better! Maybe you don’t need the blind date after all. What’s this billionaire’s name?”
“NOPE,” Eurydice stood, grabbing her plate. “Dinner is over. I refuse to participate in this conversation.”
Leo laughed. “That means the date is still on.”
Eurydice threw another napkin at him before stomping off to her room.
Behind her, Carmen called out, “I’ll text you the details!”
Eurydice groaned into her pillow.
Tomorrow was going to be another disaster.