A GOLDEN EMPIRE

CHAPTER EIGHTY- NINE

THE MOMENT THE HOLLINGSWORTH private jet touched down at Teterboro, the energy shifted. New York had a different pulse than Los Angeles—faster, bolder, ruthless in a way that demanded attention. And tonight, they weren't just here to attend another gala.

They were here for the event of the year.

The MET GALA

Aurora adjusted her oversized SAINT LAURENT
sunglasses as she stepped into the sleek black SUV waiting for them. The convoy of luxury vehicles carrying her and the rest of the group glided effortlessly through Manhattan, heading straight for the MARK HOTEL, where the final preparations would take place.

Inside the penthouse suite, chaos reigned. Designers fluttered around like frantic artists adding the final touches to their masterpieces, stylists and makeup artists worked with precision, and the air buzzed with excitement.

Aurora stood in front of a full-length mirror, admiring the gown that had been flown in from Paris specifically for her. A custom SCHIAPARELLI creation—gold sculptural bodice, black silk cascading down in dramatic folds, and a slit so high it was nearly scandalous.

"You're impossible to upstage," Adrianna mused from the plush velvet couch, sipping a flute of champagne. She wore a shimmering silver VERSACE gown, a daring mix of old Hollywood and futuristic elegance.

"I know," Aurora replied with a smirk, slipping on her diamond-encrusted stilettos.

Across the suite, Justin adjusted his TOM FORD suit—a deep midnight blue with intricate gold embroidery. His AUDEMARS PIGUET watch, sleek and understated, caught the light as he turned to Brighton and Mario, who were debating which cufflinks worked best.

"You do realize no one's looking at your cufflinks, right?" Justin quipped.

Brighton rolled his eyes but smirked. "You're just mad because I'll be the best-dressed guy there."

Mario scoffed. "Second best-dressed."

Kingsley, lounging by the window in a structured BALMAIN tux, raised his champagne glass. "Let's be real. We're shutting the entire thing down."

Avalon, draped in a sheer, jewel-encrusted MUGLER gown, added, "As we should."

Brandon, blazing in ARMANI, scrolling through his phone and glanced at his boyfriend, Blake, who looked effortlessly regal in an ALEXANDER MCQUEEN suit. "Blake's just here for the photo ops before he disappears to meet his actual college friends."

Blake smirked. "Can you blame me? Harvard awaits."

Brandon feigned offense. "And yet, I am still your greatest achievement."

Aurora, now fully ready, walked over and looped her arm through Justin's. "Shall we?"

Justin, ever composed, smirked. "Let's go make history."

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THE CONVOY OF BLACK SUVs glided through the streets of Manhattan, drawing closer to the Metropolitan Museum of Art. The energy in the car was electric—part anticipation, part ego, and entirely them.

Aurora, seated beside Justin, adjusted the gold cuff on her wrist. Across from her, Autumn was effortlessly breathtaking in a custom JEAN PAUL GAULTIER gown—a structured, corseted bodice that melted into layers of delicate tulle, the color shifting from deep sapphire to midnight black as she moved. She caught Aurora's gaze and smirked.

"Ready to break the internet?"

Aurora let out a soft laugh, tilting her head slightly. "Always."

Adrianna, Avalon, and Brighton sat in the opposite car, their group chat lighting up with texts. The moment the SUVs rolled to a stop, a hush fell over the crowd before the chaos erupted.