Urban System in America-Chapter 253 - 252: Ballroom

And with that, they finally entered the grand ballroom together, hand in hand, moving with a quiet confidence that didn’t need words or explanation. The moment they stepped past the arched doors, it was as if the entire room shifted. The glittering chandelier lights cast a soft glow over them, the music faded into the background, and all eyes naturally drifted toward the striking pair who looked like they belonged to another world.

She, radiant yet composed, carried herself with the grace of someone who had weathered storms and refused to break, her expression unreadable but eyes sharp, hiding the chaos behind a perfectly practiced smile. And beside her, Rex, tall and absurdly handsome, had that unbothered calm about him, the kind of man who looked like nothing could ever shake him.

Together, they made such a striking picture that for a moment it truly felt like a scene from a fantasy novel—like a powerful princess and her mysterious knight had just stepped into court, every movement measured, every glance calculated, making the rest of the world fade into insignificance.

The guests didn’t whisper openly, but the curious glances, the brief pauses in conversation, and the subtle shifts in posture said enough. People were watching. And that was exactly what she needed. Let them watch. Let them wonder. Let them realize she wasn’t someone who could be broken quietly and discarded behind closed doors. Not now. Not ever.

As they moved deeper into the ballroom, every step she took in her heels felt steadier than the last. The music picked back up, glasses clinked, laughter resumed, but the shift was undeniable—like they had thrown a pebble into a still pond and ripples were spreading.

She plucked a glass from a passing waiter’s tray like it was second nature, the motion graceful, almost careless. The chilled drink touched her lips before Rex could say anything, and she downed half of it in one go.

Rex blinked, mildly impressed—and maybe a little concerned. With a resigned shrug, he grabbed a glass himself, swirling the liquid, taking a few casual sips just for show as he followed her to a quieter corner of the ballroom. It was dimmer here, tucked near one of the towering marble columns, away from the main crowd but still in view. People were glancing their way occasionally, some trying not to look too obvious, others failing entirely.

Her cheeks were already starting to flush, that soft pink glow settling in fast against her perfect skin. Rex glanced at her, amused. "Hey... do you even know how to drink?"

She turned to him with a raised brow, the confidence in her voice a little too firm to be entirely sober. "Of course I can," she said proudly, like it was a matter of honor, then proceeded to take another generous gulp, as if to prove her point.

"Whoa, whoa—okay, I get it," Rex said quickly, leaning in a little, trying to ease the glass out of her hand before she finished the entire thing.

She narrowed her eyes at him, but let the drink lower a little. "I’m fine," she muttered.

He nodded, lips twitching. "Sure. Totally. You’re glowing. Like, literally. Your collagen’s fighting for its life right now."

She rolled her eyes, cheeks growing even redder—though whether from the alcohol or his teasing, he couldn’t tell.

Across the room, subtle glances kept drifting in their direction. Though most tried to be discreet, the curiosity in their eyes was hard to miss. Seeing her laughing and casually chatting with a strikingly handsome man stirred visible surprise—after all, no one had heard that the newly rising diva had a boyfriend. And from their raised eyebrows and hushed whispers, it was clear that it wouldn’t be long, when their stories would spread through the whole of Hollywood.

And even more heads turned when they recognized who he was—the absurdly handsome young man many of them had noticed earlier in the evening. Especially the women. Some had even tried their luck, striking up polite conversations or offering flirtatious smiles, only to be met with gentle, respectful rejection.

Now, seeing him standing beside Monica, smiling like he belonged there, things started to make sense. With a girlfriend like her, of course he hadn’t paid anyone else any attention.

Some sighed in resignation, accepting defeat with grace, while a few others didn’t hide their envy so well. A handful of women shot Monica sharp looks, their stares laced with bitterness. Whether it was jealousy over her beauty or the fact that she had landed someone like him—it was hard to tell.

Still, it was a bit of a relief that no one had pulled out their phones to sneak a picture. Not a single flash, not even a subtle lift of a camera lens. Maybe it was because everyone here belonged to a certain class—a circle where dignity was everything and indiscretion could be social suicide.

Or maybe it was just Hollywood’s unspoken rule: what happens at these private gatherings stays buried. After all, if one person broke that trust and leaked a rumor or photo, someone else could do the same to them.

And that would defeat the entire purpose of events like this, where the real aim wasn’t just glamour or appearances, but the chance to network, make deals, and—more often than not—hunt, seduce, and mingle without consequences.

Just then, the ambient chatter began to soften as the first delicate notes of a classic waltz drifted through the air—rich, elegant, almost otherworldly.

The grand orchestra at the far end of the hall played with practiced grace, and for a moment, the entire ballroom felt like it had slipped into a dream. There was something timeless about it, like the ballroom had been yanked out of a different century..

It was the start of the formal dance segment—an old tradition at events like these, the kind of thing that felt ripped straight from a fantasy novel, where nobles glided across gleaming floors like feathers riding a gentle breeze.

As the melody unfolded, the crowd instinctively began to form pairs, moving gracefully toward the center of the ballroom, without needing to be asked. Men offered their hands, women gave delicate nods, and soon the space was filling with figures drifting together like petals on water.

Monica’s eyes sparkled. Without hesitation, she turned toward Rex, her arm slipping through his naturally as if it had always belonged there. "Come on," she said softly, a playful glint in her eyes. "Let’s go dance," already guiding him toward the gathering crowd.

"Wait... what?" Rex blinked, caught off guard by her sudden shift. He’d been mentally preparing to enjoy the show from the sidelines, maybe sipping wine like a silent observer.

Monica raised an eyebrow at his hesitation. "Why are you being all whini-whiny?" she teased, already tugging at his arm. "It’s not every day you get to waltz with a beauty like me, you know."

Her smug little smile was infuriating in the most charming way possible, and of course Rex couldn’t just roll over and accept defeat. Straightening his shoulders, he gave a theatrical sigh. "Alright, alright, let’s go.Who’s afraid of a little dancing? Not me." he said with a mock bravado, letting her pull him toward the dance floor as the orchestra swelled.

"Good," she grinned, while pulling him towards the center of organized chaos. "Because you’d look really lame standing there like a plant while everyone else floats around."

(End of Chapter)