The grand ballroom of the Château de Lumière glittered under the soft glow of a thousand crystal chandeliers. Gold and crimson draperies cascaded from the towering windows, framing the room like a painting. Beneath them, the city’s elite danced in opulent gowns and tailored suits, their laughter and chatter blending with the soft strains of a string quartet. Yet, amid the splendor, one figure moved with deliberate subtlety, a shadow against the velvet opulence.

Vivienne Montclair adjusted the edge of her emerald-green dress as she glided through the crowd. Her eyes, sharp as a hawk’s, scanned the room while her lips curved into a faint, practiced smile. She was an enigma tonight, her dark hair pinned elegantly, a black velvet choker at her throat accentuating her delicate features. No one suspected that beneath her poised demeanor lay a thief—one of the best the world had ever known.

Tonight’s target was the L'Étoile Rouge, a ruby the size of an apricot, said to have once adorned the crown of a long-dead monarch. The gem was housed in a reinforced glass case at the heart of the ballroom, surrounded by guards and concealed within layers of security. Stealing it wouldn’t just be difficult; it would be legendary. And Vivienne loved nothing more than a challenge.

The first step was gathering information. As she moved through the crowd, Vivienne engaged in idle conversation, her keen ears filtering gossip for anything of value. A duchess complained about the new head of security being overly strict, a politician boasted about funding the state-of-the-art surveillance system, and a waiter muttered about how the guard rotations were ruining the flow of the event.

Every detail mattered.

Vivienne eventually slipped into a quiet alcove, her smile fading as she tapped her hidden earpiece. “Marcel, I’m in. Update me.”

A crackle of static, and then her partner’s voice came through. “Cameras are on a rotating feed. You’ve got about ninety seconds before your section comes back into view. I’ve overridden the elevator locks, so your escape route is ready. How’s the crowd?”

“Oblivious,” she murmured, peeking back into the room. Her eyes locked briefly with a tall man in military dress uniform—Captain Jules Moreau, head of security. He was scanning the crowd with an intensity that made her pulse quicken. “Though Moreau looks like he hasn’t taken his eyes off the room all night. He’ll be a problem.”

“Handle it. You always do,” Marcel replied, a grin evident in his tone.

Vivienne disconnected, slipping a small device from the hidden pocket of her dress. It looked like a compact, but inside was a thin glass cutter and a miniature EMP device. The tools of her trade were as elegant as she was.

Reentering the ballroom, Vivienne allowed herself to be drawn into a dance by a young nobleman, his clumsy steps giving her an excuse to move closer to the ruby’s display. Her laughter, soft and melodious, disarmed him entirely. As they turned, her sharp eyes studied the glass case. Embedded sensors lined the edges, and a laser grid flickered faintly when the light hit it just right.

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She needed a distraction.

Vivienne’s hand slipped deftly into the nobleman’s pocket as they spun. When the dance ended, she stepped back with a playful curtsy, holding his pocket watch in her palm. She turned, deliberately bumping into a waiter carrying a tray of champagne flutes.

The crash drew every eye in the room. Gasps echoed as shards of glass scattered across the marble floor. Vivienne feigned shock, the pocket watch slipping from her hand and skittering across the tiles. “Oh, I’m so sorry!” she exclaimed, drawing attention to herself.

As Captain Moreau moved to calm the situation, Vivienne glided away, her path bringing her within arm’s reach of the ruby’s case. Her fingers worked quickly, attaching the EMP device beneath the pedestal. With a quiet hum, the sensors blinked off for a few precious seconds. She made the cut.

The ruby was heavier than she expected, its facets glinting like captured fire. She slipped it into her bodice, her movements as fluid as water. Her heart raced, but she kept her expression composed, retreating toward the edge of the ballroom as the EMP device shorted out and the sensors flickered back to life.

Vivienne was almost clear when a voice stopped her.

“Leaving so soon?”

She turned, her practiced smile already in place, to find Captain Moreau standing before her. His piercing blue eyes were unreadable, his expression calm but edged with suspicion.

“I was just stepping out for some air,” she said smoothly, inclining her head.

He stepped closer, his gaze dropping briefly to her choker before meeting her eyes again. “Strange. I don’t recall seeing you on the guest list.”

Vivienne’s mind raced. The stolen ruby pressed coldly against her skin, a reminder of what was at stake. “Ah, but wouldn’t that ruin the fun?” she teased, stepping closer to him. “I find events like this far more thrilling when they’re... unplanned.”

Moreau’s lips twitched in the ghost of a smile. “Is that so?”

The tension crackled between them. He reached for her wrist, and for a moment, Vivienne thought her cover was blown. But he only lifted her hand, his fingers brushing against her palm as he examined her ring.

“A beautiful piece,” he murmured, releasing her. “Enjoy the air. But don’t stray too far—I’d hate for anyone to get lost tonight.”

Vivienne nodded, her heart pounding as she slipped away.

The escape was a blur of precision. She navigated the servant corridors, her heels clicking softly against the stone floors. Marcel guided her through the earpiece, his voice steady as he warned of approaching guards.

She reached the service elevator and slipped inside, pressing the button for the basement. The doors closed just as two guards rounded the corner, their voices fading as she descended.

In the basement, a hidden passage led to a waiting car. Marcel was behind the wheel, his grin wide as she slid into the passenger seat.

“Well?” he asked, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

Vivienne pulled the ruby from her bodice, holding it up so the dim light caught its fiery brilliance. “It’s ours.”

Marcel let out a low whistle. “You did it again. I’m starting to think you’re unstoppable.”

Vivienne smirked, leaning back in the seat as the car roared to life. “Darling, I never chase perfection. It comes to me.”

As the car sped into the night, the ruby glinting in her hand, Vivienne allowed herself a rare moment of satisfaction. The thrill of the heist still hummed in her veins, and the city’s glittering skyline stretched before her, full of promise and endless possibilities.

Her story wasn’t over—not yet.