Champagne Problems

F O U R T E E N

"That's it for this year," Madame Boulanger announces, offering a gentle smile to the class. "I wish you all a wonderful summer holiday. I'll see you next year."

Riley exhales, feeling the relief wash over him as he shuts his textbooks and slides them into his backpack. The semester is finally over, and more importantly, today marks his last shift at Hotel de Paris. No more dealing with the unreasonable demands of rich guests or suffering through their complaints. After today, he's free—free to spend his summer with his friends, moving into the campus dorm with Jérome, and living on his own terms.

"See you after the summer, Ash," Armand, a guy from his math class, calls out as he passes by.

"Yeah, have a good one," Riley replies, giving him a nod as he slings his black backpack over his shoulder. He's ready for this summer, ready for the change.

He walks briskly to his car parked outside Valrose campus, the warm breeze brushing his face as he thinks about all the things he's going to do with his newfound freedom. With a grin, he starts the car and heads to the International School of Nice to pick up Yves and Levi. It's their last day of school too, and the final day of work at the hotel for all of them.

"Get in, losers!" Riley shouts playfully through the window as he pulls up in front of the school. Yves and Levi hop into the car, laughing as they settle in for the ride.

Back at Hotel de Paris, the atmosphere is much less relaxed. Daphné sits at a beautifully set table in the restaurant with her grandparents, Benoit, and Dove. The tension is palpable, at least for Daphné. Everyone else seems to be fawning over Dove's latest venture.

"So, Dove," Giséle Arnault says, her smile warm and approving, "how is the makeup line coming along?"

Dove, ever the picture of elegance, beams. "It's going wonderfully! Tomorrow, we're doing the photoshoot for the promotional campaign."

"That's fantastic," Giséle replies, her eyes sparkling with pride. "We're so proud to have you in the family."

Daphné bites the inside of her cheek, pushing the food around her plate. She glances at Benoit, trying to fathom how her brother can't see through Dove's manipulative charm. To everyone else, Dove is perfect—poised, beautiful, and successful. But Daphné knows better.

"Where's Vincent, Daphné?" Dove's voice breaks through her thoughts, laced with artificial sweetness. "He's not joining us?"

Daphné looks up, her expression indifferent. "I don't know, playing prince somewhere?" She stabs her fork into her mashed potatoes and takes a bite, ignoring the stunned silence that follows.

Her grandfather narrows his eyes, clearly not amused. But Benoit, her faithful brother, stifles a laugh, choking on his wine. At least someone appreciates her sense of humor.

"Daphné Amalia Arnault," Monsieur Arnault says sharply, his voice filled with disapproval. "Is that a joke?"

Daphné sighs deeply, knowing her grandfather would never understand. "Grandfather, may I be excused? I'm not feeling well."

Monsieur Arnault studies her for a moment before giving a stiff nod. "Very well."

Daphné pushes back her chair and stands, eager to escape the table. As she turns to leave, Dove's voice stops her.

"I'll take her to her room," Dove offers, her sickeningly sweet smile returning.

Daphné's stomach churns. "That's really not necessary, I'm fine—"

"Nonsense," Dove insists, already standing. "I'd be happy to."

"Thank you, Dove. That's very kind of you," Giséle says, beaming at her as if she were some saint.