Two weeks had passed since the shopping trip. In those two weeks, Stephanie Laurent had survived almost entirely on caffeine, spreadsheets, and sheer determination. The Laurent Gala was tomorrow. Fifty years of Laurent Enterprises. Months of preparation. Hundreds of guests. Investors. Shareholders. Executives. Business leaders. And somehow Stephanie had volunteered to take responsibility for a significant portion of the event. Not because anyone had asked her to. Because she wanted to. For years, people had looked at Stephanie Laurent and seen only Edward Laurent’s daughter. A wealthy heiress. A privileged socialite. Someone who had been handed opportunities before she was old enough to earn them. Stephanie hated that.
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