"If you play this piano, I'll marry you," she shouted through the laughter, mocking the simple delivery man in front of all her millionaire guests.
Nobody imagined that this man in a simple uniform harbored a secret that would change everything that evening. What happened in the next few minutes left everyone in complete silence.
It was a May evening in London. The sky was tinted orange as the sun set behind the historic buildings. In the most elegant area of the city, Catherine Radcliffe's mansion shone with lights. That evening, she was celebrating her thirtieth birthday with a party that had taken months of preparation.
The crystal chandeliers illuminated the main hall. The guests wore elegant evening dresses. Men in black dinner jackets conversed while holding champagne glasses. Women in long dresses and glittering jewels laughed politely. At the center of the room, a black grand piano reflected the lights like a mirror.
Catherine moved among the guests with confidence. She wore a burgundy dress that perfectly hugged the lines of her body. Her blonde hair was styled impeccably. Every gesture of hers showed years of education in the best schools. She was the owner of London Luxury Events, a company that organized events for the wealthiest people in Britain.
"Catherine, this party is wonderful," said an elderly lady covered in pearls.
"Thank you, Lady Beatrice. Only the best for my guests," she replied with a perfect smile.
At that moment, the butler approached discreetly. "Miss Radcliffe, there is a delivery man at the door. He says he has an urgent delivery for you."
Catherine raised an eyebrow. "A delivery now? Have him enter through the service door."
"He said he must deliver it personally. It's the special bottles you ordered."
She sighed. "All right, let him in, but make it quick."
A few minutes later, a man entered the hall. He wore a light blue shirt with rolled-up sleeves, a dark apron, and yellow work gloves. He held a box in his hand. His dark hair was a bit messy. He was about thirty-five years old, with a serious and tired expression on his face.
The guests looked at him with curiosity. Some stepped back slightly. Philip walked through the hall trying to be as discreet as possible, his eyes searching for the hostess.
"You must be Mrs. Radcliffe," he asked with respect, bowing his head.
Catherine turned, looking him up and down with an expression of annoyance. "Yes, I am. But what are you doing in here? Deliveries are made through the service door."
"My apologies, ma'am. They told me to deliver it personally. These are the bottles you ordered from the Golden Vines Company."
Some guests began to giggle. Catherine noticed the glances and saw an opportunity to entertain her guests.