when two rich kids find themselves confiding in each other about the struggles of having to be perfect for their families, but in the midst of confiding in each other they didn't expect to fall in love with each other.
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༉ LET'S CONFIDE IN EACH OTHER.
champagne taste ✧ chapter 01
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I follow closely behind my father as he strides through the grand halls of the hotel, his presence commanding respect from everyone we pass. Tonight, this lavish venue is hosting a private gathering for the highest-status individuals in Asia—business tycoons, industry moguls, and politicians, all gathered under one roof in an exclusive celebration of wealth and influence. I've attended my fair share of luxury events, but this one feels different. Not because of the opulence—I've long since grown used to marble floors polished to perfection, chandeliers dripping in crystals, and an air of refinement so thick it's suffocating—but because, for the first time, my father has chosen to bring me along.
It's a break from tradition. He has never extended an invitation to me before, always insisting that these affairs were "business matters" beyond my concern. Yet tonight, without explanation, I am by his side, dressed in a perfectly tailored suit, my tie knotted so tight it's nearly choking me. The unspoken weight of expectation presses down on my shoulders.
As we approach the towering double doors leading into the ballroom, my father stops abruptly, causing me to halt just in time to avoid colliding into his back. He turns to face me, his expression unreadable—stern, yet not unkind. The kind of look that tells me he's about to say something important. Instinctively, I straighten my posture, meeting his gaze with unwavering attention.
"We'll be in a room filled with my closest business partners and their children," he states evenly, his voice carrying the quiet authority I've always associated with him. "I expect you to conduct yourself accordingly. And I want you to socialize with the other children—it would be beneficial for the future of our families if you built relationships with them as well." He pauses, his eyes briefly scanning my face, as if assessing whether his words are sinking in. "I don't want to see you standing in the corner looking antisocial. Make an effort."
I nod in silent understanding. This isn't a request—it's an expectation.
Satisfied with my response, my father reaches forward, adjusting my tie with practiced ease before giving my blazer a firm pat, his fingers brushing over the expensive fabric as if making sure I am as presentable as he needs me to be. Once he's done, he gives me one final look, a slight nod of approval, before turning on his heel.
