**Summer's POV**

I froze, my hand automatically reaching for my purse. *520? That's my number, isn't it?* I fumbled with the clasp, frantically dgging through the contents. Lipstick, phone, keys... where was that damn tag?

The ballroom had gone completely silent. From across the room,I could see Victoria and Bianca frantically checking their own number tags,their faces falling in disappointment when they realized they weren't the lucky ones.

Suddenly,a commotion erupted near the stage. Elle Sinclair had practically lunged forward,snatching the red tag from Brandon's hand. Her face contorted in disbelief, all traces of her earlier poise vanishing in an instant.

"No..." I heard her gasp, loud enough for her voice to carry. "This isn't possible. It can't be..."

Brandon's expression remained impassive, though I detected a hint of amusement in his eyes. "What's not possible, Elle?" he asked coolly. "Is there something strange about this number?"

Elle seemed to realize her mistake, her eyes widening as she registered the crowd's stunned reaction to her outburst. "No, Brandon, I didn't mean-"she stammered, her voice rising with panic. "I just thought... I mean,I didn't expect..."

Brandon calmly reached out and took the tag back from her trembling fingers. "Monica," he called, his tone deliberately casual, "could you please identify who holds number 520?"
I finally found my tag at the bottom of my purse. Taking a deep breath, I raised my hand and stepped forward from the crowd. "I'm number 520," I called out, my voice clear and steadly. "Sorry for the delay-I was searching through my bag. I thought I'd forgotten to bring it."

All eyes turned to me as I held up the matching red tag. I was acutely aware of how different I looked from the other women in the room. My simple black dress with subtle white accents was practically austere compared to the glittering gowns and elaborate hairstyles surrounding me.

A murmur swept through the crowd as Monica stepped forward,peering at my tag. "It's Summer Taylor, Mr. Stark," she confirmed. "From the Projects department!"

Something flashed in Brandon's eyes-a warmth visible only to me before his professional mask slid back into place. His lips curved into a slight smile as he regarded me. "Miss Taylor, is it?"

I nodded, feeling hundreds of eyes on me. "Yes, Mr. Stark! Thank you for this opportunity."

"It seems Miss Taylor has excellent luck tonight," Brandon commented, his voice carrying easily through the room.

I couldn't help but smile. "I'm just fortunate, that's all."

Brandon turned slightly toward Leo, who was watching with an unreadable expression. "Schmidt, yourassistant is quite stunning, isn't she?"1

Leo cleared his throat. "Indeed, Mr. Stark."

The exchange was interrupted by a strangled sound from Elle. She was staring at me, her face drained of color. Her finger shot out, pointing
directly at me. "You... you're... Brandon,she,she-"

Brandon's eyes hardened for a fraction of a second, his gaze shifting deliberately to Jane Sinelair, who looked equally stunned. The color had drained from her face as she stared at me, her perfectly manicured hand frozen halfway to her mouth.

"Mother." Brandon said, his voice deceptively calm, "I think Elle is tired from hosting duties today. Perhaps you should escort her downstairs for a moment?"

Jane seemed to snap out of her trance, her eyes narrowing as she studied me with sudden intensity.

"No!" Elle shouted, her voice rising to a hysterical pitch. "Brandon, I'm not going anywhere! This woman is a home-wrecking slut! Brandon, have you forgotten? She betrayed you! How could you possibly-"

"That's enough!" Jane cut in sharply, grabbing Elle's arm. "Elle is indeed overtired. I'll take her to rest. As for the annual party... carry on without us!"

Brandon nodded once, then turned to James. "Have Desmond assign two men to follow them."

"Right away, sir," James replied instantly.

I stood frozen in place, so lost in thought that I didn't notice Brandon approaching until he was standing directly in front of me, one hand extended elegantly. "May I have the honor of this first dance, Miss Taylor?"he asked, his voice carrying just the right note of professional courtesy.

I hesitated, my mind still stuck on Elle's strange outburst. Was Elle taking me for somebody else?
"Miss Taylor?" Brandon prompted softly, his eyebrow arched slightly."Hmm?"

I snapped back to reality, placing my hand in his much larger one. "I'd be honored. Mr. Stark. Please lead the way."

All eyes were on us as we moved to the center of the dance floor. I couldn't help noticing the whispers-how despite our relatively simple attire compared to the others, we somehow looked like we belonged together.

The music began, a slow, elegant waltz. Brandon's hand settled at my waist. the heat of his palm burning through the thin fabric of my dress.With practiced ease, he guided me through the first steps,leading so skillfully that I felt as though I were floating.

"June," he murmured, his voice low enough that only I could hear, "what do you think of your husband's dancing skills?"

I smiled up at him, keeping my voice equally low. "Mr. Stark certainly has a talent for surprising me in the most unexpected ways. I'm absolutely delighted!"

"So you're pleased with my surprise?" he asked, his eyes searching mine.

I made a show of considering it, my lips pursed in mock seriousness."More shocked than pleased, to be honest."

"Brat," he whispered, the corner of his mouth twitching upward."I thought you'd be touched. Do you have any idea how much planning it took to make sure your number would be the one I pulled?"

"You're being incredibly obvious tonight," I pointed out, concern creeping into my voice. "After this, I'm going to be the target of every woman in this room."
"Don't worry about that," he assured me, executing a perfect turn that had us gliding across the floor. "I've already set up another distraction as a lightning rod for any potential negativity."

My eyes darted to the corner where Victoria stood watching us, her beauitiful face twisted with barely disguised hatred. "You don't mean Victoria,do you?"

"Mmm-hmm," he confirmed1, the sound rumbling deep in his chest.

"I'm not sure that worked as well as you thought," I said doubtfully. "Also,what was that weird meltdown from Elle? Did she think she is the one who dances with you?"

Brandon's arm tightened around my waist. "I promise you, Elle won't be a problem for you."

"Why?" I pressed,searching his face for answers.

"You'll understand soon enough," he said cryptically. His expression softened as he guided me through another turn. "Now focus on the dance.Stop thinking about people who don't matter."

I followed his lead, allowing my body to move in perfect synchronization with his. As the music reached its crescendo, Brandon spun me once more before dipping me gracefully in his arms, ending our performance with a flourish.

The crowd burst into applause as we held the position for a moment longer than necessary. I could feel Brandon's breath warm against my neck,his arms solid and secure around me. When he finally helped me straighten, his hand lingered at my waist.

"Miss Taylor dances beautifully," he announced to the crowd, his voice
carrying that perfect blend of professional appreciation and appropriate distance.
a ###Chapter 219: She's a Carbon Copy of Lyann

**Elle's POV**

I paced the backstage lounge at Manhattan Club like a caged animal,my sequined pink gown catching the light with each furious step. The two bodyguards Brandon had sent stood by the door like statues, watching my every move.

"How the hell did this happen?" I muttered, tugging at my pearl necklace.
"It was supposed to be∗me∗!′′

Jane sat on the edge of a velvet settee, her manicured nails tapping rhythmically against her clutch. She hadn't said much since Brandon humiliated us in front of the entire company.

"Elle, sit down," she finally said, her voice tight. "Stop pacing. You're making me dizzy."

I ignored her, continuing to circle the room. The image of Summer dancing with Brandon kept flashing through my mind, making me physically ill.

"Aunt Jane," I whispered, my voice trembling, "what are we going to do?She... do you think Brandon did that on purpose? How could he not know that Summer looks *exactly* like Lyanna? And he's been callingher to his office repeatedly.*His office*."

Jane's head snapped up, her eyes widening. "What did you say? Brandon already knew about this Summer? And he knew she looks like Lyanna?"

"What else could it be?" I demanded, my fingers twisting together in my lap. "I've been wondering why he keeps calling her to his office. And even
though I hadn't seen her before, something about her silhouette felt so familiar. Now I know why-she's a carbon copy of Lyanna! Do you think Brandon might be..."

"Impossible," Jane cut in firmly. "Even if she looks like Lyanna, they're not the same person. And don't forget how Lyanna left Brandon, how she left New York. What does Brandon hate most in this world? It's the reason he still hasn't forgiven me after all these years. He has no feelings left for Lyanna, and he certainly couldn't have feelings for this Summer."

"But Jane," I said, my voice rising with panic, "I hate her.I really,*really*hate her. Just thinking about her walking around with Lyanna's face makes me feel sick. Jane, you have to get rid of her."

Jane's eyes hardened. "I'll figure something out. One way or another,this woman must go!"

My gaze drifted to the bodyguards still watching us. Their presence suddenly felt suffocating.

"You two, come here," I called out, adopting my most authoritative tone."Brandon only told you to protect me, not to stare at me all night like I'm some kind of prisoner."

The taller guard-Desmond-didn't move. "Miss Sinclair, Mr. Wilson's instructions were very clear. We are to stay with you and Mrs. Sinclair at all times. Please don't make our job more difficult."

Jane turned to the bodyguards, her voice dropping to that silky, dangerous tone. "Gentlemen, I am Brandon's mother. You do know who I am,don't you? Then you should also know that crossing me would be... unwise for your careers."
"Mrs. Sinclair, with all due respect," Desmond replied calmly, "we're simply following orders. Mr. Stark pays our salary, and we only answer to him."

Jane's eyes narrowed dangerously before her lips curved into a cold smile. "Very well. I won't make things difficult for you. But I would like some tea.

Desmond nodded,clearly relieved. "T'll have someone bring it right away."

"Wait," I called after him. "I need to see someone. Brandon's secretary,Monica. Bring her here. And the person who prepared the drawing box for tonight-bring them too!"

Minutes later, Monica appeared in the doorway,followed by a nervous-looking staff member.

"Miss Sinclair," she said politely, "you asked to see me?"

Rage exploded inside me. Without thinking, I crossed the room and slapped her hard across the face.

Monica staggered back, her hand flying to her cheek. "Miss Sinclair!" she gasped, "What have I done to deserve this? Weren't you just telling me the other day that we're friends?"

"Friends?" I laughed harshly."With*you*? If you weren't Brandon's secretary, I wouldn't give you the time of day!"

"I guess I misjudged you completely, Miss Sinclair," Monica replied, her expression hardening.

"Like I care what you think," I sneered. "Did you really believe there was any genuine feeling between us? Haven't I given you enough perks
already?"

"Indeed," Monica replied tightly. "So why exactly did you summon me here? Found out I'm no longer useful, so you thought you'd kick me to the curb with a slap for good measure?"

"Stop playing dumb!" I spat. "Tell me the truth-did you switch the drawing box?"

My hand flew up to slap her again, but this time Monica caught my wrist mid-air.

"Miss Sinclair," she said, her voice dangerously soft, "You've already slapped me once-do youreally want to try for a second time?"

"Are you threatening me?" I hissed. "Let me tell you something-even if something *unfortunate* were to happen to you, Brandon wouldn't care.You're just a secretary. Your life means nothing."

Monica smiled,sending a chill down my spine. "I don't understand what you're talking about, Miss Sinclair. The drawing box was prepared early this morning. Why would I need to switch anything? Unless... there's some secret about the box that I don't know about? A secret that *you*know,perhaps?"

"That's ridiculous! I don't know anything!"

Monica turned to Jane. "Miss Sinclair has physically assaulted me without provocation. I may be just a secretary, but I am Mr. Stark's personally appointed chief secretary.Would you care to comment?"

I saw realization dawn in Jane's eyes-she'd figured out what I'd done.I'd switched the tags in the drawing box, but someone had switched them back.
"Jane," I pleaded desperately, "say something! You're a member of the Stark family, the mother of the CEO! Are you going to let a mere secretary intimidate you?"

When Jane remained silent, my panic escalated. "Jane, please! Help me!I can't stand the sight of this woman. Tell Brandon-tell your brother to get rid of her. I never want to see her again!"

"Enough!" Jane finally snapped. "When will you stop this nonsense?"

Monica's lips curled into a knowing smirk.

"What do you want?" Jane demanded, turning to Monica.

"I don't want anything," Monica replied innocently. "Tve been gone far too long already-the main event of the annual party is about to begin. If I'm not there, Mr. Stark will wonder where I am, and the entire Stark Group will know that Mrs. Sinclair-”

"Get out!" Jane interrupted, her face flushed with anger. "Get out right now!

"Thank you, Mrs. Sinclair," Monica replied with a slight bow, not hiding her triumphant expression as she left.

"How could you let her leave like that?" I turned on Jane. "She's clearly behind this! She's deliberately working against me! If it weren't for her,I would have been dancing with Brandon tonight, not that woman!"

"Enough!" Jane hissed, grabbing my arm. I stared at her, shocked by her anger.

"Don't you understand?" Jane continued, lowering her voice. "Monica wouldn't dare act this way unless she had Brandon's backing. Which
means Brandon likely knows about what you did with the drawing box."

"That's not possible..."

"I warned you to be nice to Monica, didn't I? Besides James,she's the person Brandon trusts most. Do you think she became chief secretary at her age by being naive? And now you've made an enemy of her. What were you thinking?"