He Chased the Ice Goddess (But She Loved Him First)

July in Veridiana was defined by violent, sudden downpours. Outside the floor-to-ceiling glass, a tropical thunderstorm slathered the windows with heavy rivulets of water, blurring the neon horizon. Inside, beneath the blinding radiance of crystal chandeliers, the atmosphere was suffocatingly warm, thick with the clinking of champagne flutes and shallow laughter.

In front of the vanity mirror stood Charlotte Vance.

She wore a breathtaking, tailored gown of pure white silk, embroidered with understated rose motifs, silver threads crisscrossing the delicate fabric. The collar was high and structured, the waist cinched tightly, while a dramatic sl*t on the left side revealed the porcelain length of her calf. Cold, ethereal, and impossibly distant, she looked like the pale moon hanging over a stormy sea—magnificent, but strictly out of reach.

She had stepped in to change into her formal dress for the upcoming anniversary gala.

Just as her slender fingers reached for the top pearl button of her dress, her gaze flicked upward. In the reflection of the glass, a tiny, pulsing red dot glinted from the shadowy corner of the ornate ceiling moulding.

Charlotte’s fingers froze. Her expression didn't crumble by a fraction. With practiced, effortless composure, she smoothly retrieved her designer clutch, turned on her heels, and walked straight out of the dressing room.

Her assistant, Audrey Finch, hurried forward the moment the door swung open. "Charlotte? Why haven't you changed yet? We're on in twenty minutes."

Charlotte handed her clutch over, her voice a calm, flat line. "There’s a hidden camera inside."

Audrey’s eyes widened in sheer disbelief before quickly melting into hot indignation. She lowered her voice to a furious whisper. "Those absolute bastards at Valmont Group! That’s disgusting! I swear, we are dropping them from our client list after tonight."

"It isn't the first time an event organizer has pulled something like this, and it won't be the last," Charlotte replied nonchalantly, adjusting the strap of her bag. "There's no need to throw away a five-figure paycheck over their pettiness. Let's use the executive restroom down the hall."

Audrey let out a defeated sigh. She never understood why Charlotte continued to accept gigs from Valmont Group. With Charlotte’s rising fame as the premier broadcast host in the city, she had endless options. But Valmont was notorious among industry insiders; their executives insisted on installing 'security cameras' in private quarters under the guise of liability protection.

Charlotte simply preferred not to let her private moments become their leverage.

The cramped space of the executive restroom stall made slipping into her tight evening gown somewhat awkward, but Charlotte managed it with practiced grace. As she was pulling up the delicate hidden zipper along her spine, voices drifted in from the outer vanity area.

"Did you see the man chatting with the Chairman earlier? Tall, devastatingly handsome, and ridiculously young. Do you know who he is?"

"Are you talking about the guy with those bedroom eyes? The one with the tiny tear mole right below his lower eyelid?"

"Yes! Exactly him! God, that mole is absurdly attractive. He looks like a walking temptation."

Charlotte’s fingers stilled on her zipper. She lowered her eyes, listening silently.

"Is he one of our new corporate partners?"

"No way. That’s Julian Sterling. You know, from Sterling Motors & Holdings."

"Sterling Motors? I thought they only dealt in luxury automotive and international shipping. What’s he doing at a real estate gala?"

"Supposedly he’s related to the Chairman's side of the family. Whenever Valmont throws a major event, he makes a courtesy appearance."

As the footsteps and giggles faded down the hall, Charlotte remained still, her gaze fixed on the marble floor.

"Charlotte?" Audrey’s voice knocked on the stall door. "Are you done inside? Do you need a hand with the back?"

"I'm fine," Charlotte smoothed her expression, pulled the zipper the final inch, and pushed the door open.

Audrey unashamedly scanned her boss from head to toe. Standing at nearly five-foot-nine in her stilettos, Charlotte was a masterpiece of classic elegance. Her waist was narrow enough to span with two hands, her pitch-black hair tumbled in loose, silky waves over her collarbones, and her fair skin glowed brilliantly against the stark white silk.

Over the past three years, Charlotte Vance’s career had soared to phenomenal heights. Yet, whenever the media praised her formidable intellect and sharp broadcasting skills, they never forgot to obsess over her lethal beauty. She was like a crimson plum blossom blooming in the winter snow—striking, fierce, and unforgettable.

"Unbelievable," Audrey gushed, a bright grin breaking across her face. "You look like a piece of living art. Royalty, honestly. Pure, untouchable aristocrat energy."

Charlotte offered a dry, amused smile. "Flattery noted. I’ll make sure to approve your raise next month."

Audrey’s eyes lit up, immediately launching into an endless stream of exaggerated praise as they walked down the quiet VIP corridor.

"I'm serious, Charlotte! You're way too humble. If you weren't this brilliant, why else would high-society playboys like Dominic Sinclair or Lucas Radcliffe be throwing money around just to back your shows? Those trust-fund heirs are arrogant as hell, they usually don't give anyone the time of day—"

Charlotte, who had been listening with a polite smile, suddenly stopped in her tracks.

She turned her head slightly, her voice cutting through Audrey's chatter with cool precision. "Are you implying that my success is defined by the men who sponsor me?"

Audrey froze, nervously pulling at her collar. "No! Charlotte, you know I didn't mean it like that..."

Charlotte wasn't truly angry with her assistant. She softened her tone, speaking in a quiet, matter-of-fact manner. "Their willingness to fund my projects has nothing to do with my capability." She paused, the corner of her lips curving into an ethereal, confident smile. "I know exactly how good I am."

Audrey relaxed, nodding fervently. "You're the best in the business, hands down."

Cough.

A sudden, deep masculine cough echoed from the shadowed alcove just ahead—heavy, suppressed, and unmistakable. It was followed by the crisp, measured sound of leather soles striking polished marble, fading quickly into the distance.

Charlotte and Audrey exchanged a quick glance. Turning the corner, the hallway was entirely empty, leading straight toward the main auditorium and VIP seating.

"Do you think someone was eavesdropping?" Audrey whispered nervously.

The vaulted corridor amplified every sound. Whoever had been standing there had undoubtedly heard their entire conversation.

Charlotte felt a flicker of annoyance at her own carelessness. "From now on, do not bring up Dominic or Lucas in public spaces."

"Got it," Audrey replied instantly.

As they reached the entrance of the green room, Charlotte instinctively glanced toward the far end of the VIP concourse. Through the glass partition, a tall, broad-shouldered silhouette caught her eye.

Her breath hitched. She froze for a fraction of a second.

"Charlotte?"

Suppressing the sudden jolt in her chest, Charlotte pushed the green room door open without another word.

After touching up her makeup, Charlotte reviewed the event script provided by the host team.

A coordinator from Valmont Group dropped off the cue cards, offering polite pleasantries and leaving two bottles of mineral water before rushing back out. For a broadcaster of Charlotte's caliber, memorizing event flows and key corporate slogans took mere minutes; the rest was pure, instinctual improvisation.

Gradually, her mind drifted.

"What time is it?" she asked.

Audrey checked her tablet. "1:40 PM."

Charlotte made a soft noise of acknowledgment. Her eyes rested on the cue cards, but her thoughts were miles away, anchored to the conversation she had overheard in the restroom stall.

Julian Sterling. The brilliant nephew of Valmont’s Chairman. Though their industries were vastly different, the two families maintained tight, lucrative ties. Julian attended every major Valmont summit, and today marked his very first public appearance since returning from his four-year tenure in London.

The gala was scheduled to begin at 2:00 PM. Normally, staff would knock on the door five minutes prior. Audrey wasn't worried, calmly organizing the schedule for the next two days, when Charlotte spoke again.

"Has it been delayed?"

"Huh? I haven't received an update," Audrey offered tentatively. "Should I go check?"

"Yes. Go check."

Charlotte was seasoned, calm, and notoriously unflappable during live events. She never showed impatience—because she never had a reason to. Today's subtle restlessness was entirely out of character. It almost looked like... nervousness.

Suppressing her internal surprise, Audrey stepped out and returned a minute later. "There was a minor technical hitch on stage. They've pushed the opening back to 2:30 PM."

Charlotte gave a brief nod and resumed staring at her cards.

When the coordinators finally signaled it was time, Charlotte picked up her cue cards and stepped onto the wings of the grand stage. She tilted her head slightly, her gaze sweeping subtly across the sea of VIP tables.

Valmont’s board members and high-ranking executives were all seated in the front rows. And right there, sitting dead center in the second row, was Julian Sterling.

Four years had passed, yet she recognized him in an instant.

His dark bespoke suit was no different from the men around him, but his handsome, striking features made it impossible for him to blend in. He leaned back against his chair in a posture of relaxed, aristocratic ease, his long legs crossed. One lean, elegant hand lightly tapped against his knee while he glanced idly at his phone. Every movement radiated an effortless, magnetic nobility.

Young, extraordinarily accomplished, impeccably mannered—Julian Sterling was the rare breed of high-society heir who managed to command absolute respect without ever condescending to others.

Just as Charlotte prepared to pull her gaze away, the man unexpectedly raised his eyes.

Unnerringly, through the dim ambient lighting of the auditorium, their eyes met across the vast space.

Targeted by those deep, obsidian eyes, Charlotte felt her chest tighten involuntarily.

The auditorium was deafening, filled with the roar of chatter and the swelling overture of the orchestra. Across the distance, Julian offered her a polite, faint smile—gentle, refined, exactly as she remembered him.

Charlotte gave an imperceptible, formal nod of her head before coolly shifting her eyes away.

"Miss Vance, let's test the mic," the sound engineer beside her prompted.

Charlotte reached out instinctively, but realized her left hand was trembling slightly. She seamlessly dropped it, wiping her damp palm against her silk gown before taking the microphone firmly in her right hand.

Testing the sound with vocal exercises："Testing, one, two."

The venue quieted down. The audio technician gave a crisp thumbs-up. "You're clear to go, Miss Vance."

Charlotte drew a deep breath, centered her focus, and stepped gracefully into the blinding spotlight as the grand entrance music swelled.

Her lips curved into a flawless, practiced smile. Her voice rang out through the speakers—clear, melodious, and commanding. "Good afternoon, distinguished guests, executives, and honored partners. Welcome to the Valmont Group Tenth Anniversary Summit. I am your host, Charlotte Vance."

Thunderous applause erupted from the audience. Blinding spotlights and hundreds of rapt, admiring gazes locked onto her.

Standing at the highest point of the stage, elevated above the crowd, Charlotte let her eyes drift imperceptibly back down—crossing the distance, cutting through the sea of faces, and settling quietly on Julian Sterling once more.

The Valmont Group Summit stretched on for over three hours.

Following the closing remarks, Director Thomas from the Marketing Department approached Charlotte with an eager smile, inviting her to join their executive post-event dinner.

Such dinners were standard corporate networking—a chance for executives to flex their influence and secure future contracts. Charlotte had no intention of accepting. She never attended private dinners with Valmont executives, knowing full well the extent of their toxic corporate culture.

Sweeping a cool, peripheral glance toward the distance where Julian was currently surrounded by an entourage of investors, Charlotte offered Director Thomas a polite, distant smile. "My apologies, Director Thomas. I have another broadcast recording scheduled for tonight."

Director Thomas was swamped with high-profile clients and didn't push. After a few transactional pleasantries, he handed her off to his junior staff to settle the invoice.

Escaping the venue at last, Charlotte changed back into her classic ivory dress in the main restroom and walked down to the subterranean parking garage with Audrey.

"Is tomorrow's schedule locked in?"

"All set," Audrey confirmed. "The celebrity guest arrives at 2:00 PM. You can rest at home tomorrow morning, Charlotte, and head to the studio in the afternoon."

Charlotte nodded. "Good."

Audrey had gotten her driver's license only the previous year and occasionally doubled as Charlotte's chauffeur. Her parking skills, however, remained abysmal; she had deliberately chosen a spot with empty stalls on both sides earlier that afternoon.

Unfortunately, the garage was now packed to capacity. The tight space left Audrey sweating over the steering wheel, struggling to maneuver their sedan out of the narrow bay.

"Charlotte..." Audrey whimpered, leaning her head out of the driver's window. "I think I'm stuck."

Charlotte stepped up to the edge of the stall, her eyes skimming the license plate of the sleek black sedan parked to their right. Before she could offer to take the wheel, the sharp, double-beep of a luxury horn echoed through the concrete garage.

Charlotte turned toward the sound, her fingers instinctively tightening around the strap of her bag.

The dark-tinted window of the black sedan slowly rolled down.

Inside, a man’s hand rested casually on the steering wheel. His head was turned slightly toward them, his sharp, clean profile half-drenched in the stark white overhead light. He radiated a lazy, dangerous elegance.

Meeting her gaze through the dim air, Julian Sterling smiled softly, his peach-blossom eyes crinkling at the corners.

"Need a hand, Miss Vance?"

The air in the subterranean parking garage felt thick and stale, heavy with the dampness of the afternoon storm.

After a quiet moment of hesitation, Julian Sterling heard the cool, melodious "Yes" from the woman in the passenger seat. A faint smile touched his lips. Maneuvering his sleek vehicle with practiced precision, he slid into the tight bay, smoothly backed Charlotte’s sedan out into the open lane, and parked.

Stepping out of the driver’s side, he stood by the open door, watching her. His dark eyes were clear yet inscrutable, examining her with an intense, probing curiosity—yet somehow, it was impossible to find his gaze intrusive.

One second. Two seconds. Three seconds...

Their eyes locked across the quiet garage.

It was the look reserved entirely for a stranger.

In that fleeting beat, Charlotte felt a hollow ache settle deep in her chest. Her fingers tightened around her leather clutch until her knuckles flushed a delicate pink. Masking h