Chapter 504: Chapter 504

Taylor’s eyes narrowed slightly, a glint of interest flickering in their depths.

The newly appointed head of the Nolan family—one of the three great dynasties—had taken the reins with an iron grip.

Under his leadership, the Nolan family had shed its former mild demeanor, adopting instead a bold and decisive approach.

In just a short time, he had sent ripples of unease through the other two families.

In that regard, he somewhat resembled Sinclair.

Stephen shared the same sentiment.

Taylor swirled his glass absentmindedly, his expression unreadable.

All eyes turned toward the entrance as a tall, striking figure strode into the grand hall with effortless grace.

His impeccably tailored white suit accentuated his lean, commanding frame.

His features blended the refined contours of the East with the striking angles typical of E country—deep-set eyes, a chiseled nose—creating an arresting presence.

His face was exquisitely sculpted, with an androgynous beauty that defied gender.

Though he wore a smile, his piercingly cold gaze remained sharp enough to make others avert their eyes.

Every movement carried an effortless grace, radiating poise and elegance.

From her corner, Melissa glanced at Nolan before sitting back down with a hint of disappointment.

"I thought he’d be something special. Turns out he’s just... meh."

Vicente smirked, pleased with her reaction, and lifted a bite of dessert to her lips.

Melissa wasn’t just saying it to impress her boyfriend.

If it came to beauty, this man couldn’t hold a candle to Calvin.

In terms of handsomeness, Sinclair outshone him.

And when it came to presence?

Her own brother had him beat.

Her eyes flicked to the man beside her, and she added silently: Oh, and one more thing.

His physique was nothing compared to Vicente’s.

But not everyone had grown up surrounded by ridiculously perfect men like Melissa had.

To most, a man like Nolan flawless in every way—was still utterly irresistible.

"Sigh, why are all the good men already taken?"

"If President Nolan weren’t engaged, he’d have women throwing themselves at him left and right."

"Who knows about others, but I’d definitely go all out for President Nolan.

"Stop talking nonsense.

If Princess Kiara hears this, you’ll be in deep trouble."

Though the royal family no longer held the same political power as before, their status remained untouchable.

Making life difficult for a family was still well within their means—after all, plenty of people were eager to curry favor with them.

The woman who had spoken stiffened at the warning and immediately fell silent.

Yet her eyes remained fixed on Nolan, utterly unable to look away.

Juliet studied Nolan from across the crowd, her gaze narrowing slightly.

If not for his royal engagement, her attention would have undoubtedly lingered on him.

After all, he was arguably the most eligible bachelor in the entire country.

Despite being twins, Queen’s taste in men couldn’t have been more different from her sister’s.

To her, Nolan was undeniably handsome—but there was always something unsettling, something shadowed, lurking beneath that striking exterior.

Nolan swiftly scanned the crowd in the grand hall, his piercing gaze lingering momentarily on a few select individuals.

Among them was Taylor.

With effortless composure, Taylor raised his glass in a subtle acknowledgment.

Harrison shot a glance at Nolan, a cold sneer curling in his chest.

The two men were of similar age, both heirs to the three most powerful families, inevitably pitted against each other in constant comparison.

Yet, whether it was looks or cunning, this man always seemed to outshine him.

It was precisely for this reason that the mere sight of Nolan stirred a visceral disgust within him.

Still, appearances had to be maintained.

Harrison, accompanied by Juliet and the Orlando couple, made his way toward Nolan As he passed Taylor, his gaze faltered for the briefest instant.

With only ten minutes left before the charity gala officially began, Sinclair had yet to arrive. Clearly, he wasn’t going to make it.

Taylor observed Harrison’s expression with quiet amusement, his own demeanor as composed and unruffled as ever, betraying not a hint of impatience.

If Sinclair said he’d come, he would come.

Harrison’s scheming would only end up backfiring on himself.

Amidst the lively chatter of the crowd, the clock struck eight.

The elegant music faded into silence as all eyes turned toward the entrance. Everyone knew the host, Earl of Aiston, had arrived.

Conversations and discussions ceased immediately as guests fixed their gazes on the doorway.

At the end of the red carpet, two Rolls-Royce Phantoms came to a stop one after the other.

Though puzzled by the presence of two cars, the media had long since readied their cameras, not wanting to miss a single moment of breaking news.

The butler waiting at the entrance promptly stepped forward and opened the rear door.

Bowing slightly, the butler held the door open, shielding the frame with his hand.

Reporters quickly adjusted their equipment to the best angles, eagerly awaiting the appearance of the evening’s host—the Earl of Aiston.

A middle-aged man in a light gray tailored suit stepped out of the car, his figure slightly portly.

His features were still refined, though his golden hairline had retreated to a precarious edge—a common plight among middle-aged men in Country E.

The media frenzy reached its peak as cameras flashed incessantly at Aiston.

But in the next moment, all attention shifted.

From the driver’s seat of the Rolls-Royce behind, a refined and handsome man stepped out, his expression deferential as he opened the rear door.

A long leg, clad in sleek black trousers, emerged first.

Then, a man with distinctly East features appeared before the crowd.

Sharp, sword-like brows.

Narrow, piercing eyes.

Thin, perfectly sculpted lips. His beauty was almost criminal.

Impeccably tailored in a flawless black suit that hugged his tall, statuesque frame, he exuded an aura of aristocratic aloofness and the commanding presence of someone accustomed to power—even more so than Nolan before him.

Instantly, the media’s focus was stolen. Who was this?!

Anyone sharing the spotlight with Count Aiston as the grand finale was no ordinary figure.

As seasoned journalists, they prided themselves on recognizing most of the financial titans present today.

Yet this man—he didn’t match any of them.

Under the scrutiny of numerous media cameras, the man remained utterly composed.

With long strides, he walked toward the car door on the other side.

Every gaze in the crowd followed his movements.

Sinclair opened the door, carefully shielding the edge with his hand.

The sharp, chiseled lines of his profile seemed to soften slightly under the glow of the lights.

From the back seat emerged a woman clad in a form-fitting white cheongsam, adorned with a golden peony pattern that bloomed subtly from hem to collar.

The exquisite embroidery only heightened her breathtaking beauty.

At the high neckline, the traditional frog clasp was fastened with lustrous, top-grade pearls—classic and refined.

The cheongsam’s tailored silhouette accentuated her flawless waist-to-hip ratio, while her already porcelain-like skin seemed to glow like polished jade under the lights.

Her chestnut-brown curls cascaded to her waist, loosely pinned back with a jade hairpin.

The look was both tenderly enchanting and coolly elegant—two distinct yet harmonious facets of Eastern beauty embodied effortlessly in her.

With a faint curve of her crimson lips, Camilla looped her arm through her husband’s.

Together, they strode toward Earl Aston.

One dressed in black, the other in white—one exuding an air of aloof indifference, the other a quiet, icy elegance.

Their presence, both in aura and appearance, was a perfect match, as if their combined magnetism created an invisible barrier that kept the rest of the world at a distance.

Nearby, the media, snapping out of their momentary daze, immediately raised their cameras and began frantically clicking the shutters.

Beautiful things captivate everyone—and beautiful people are no exception.

Easton’s gaze involuntarily lingered on Camilla’s face, his brow furrowing slightly.

From the very first moment he laid eyes on this woman, an inexplicable sense of familiarity had stirred within him.

Yet he knew—if he had truly met someone like her before, he would never have forgotten.

That left only one plausible explanation.

—Beautiful people simply share certain resemblances.

Sinclair observed Easton’s subtle shift in expression, his dark eyes narrowing ever so slightly.

Quickly composing himself, Count Easton smiled and gestured graciously toward the couple.

"Mr. Luther, Mrs. Luther, please, come inside."