Aphrodite stood at the entrance of her new palace, watching the first carriage approach through the garden gates. The building behind her was exactly what she had planned — white marble columns, gold-trimmed archways, and rooms designed to make powerful men lose themselves in wonder. She had spent months making kings and merchants believe that funding her vision was their own brilliant idea. Now the palace was ready, and her strategy was about to be tested. The carriage stopped. The door opened. A woman stepped out. Aphrodite's hand tightened on the jade railing of the garden arch. This was wrong. The first arrival was supposed to be a war hero or a wealthy merchant, someone she had chosen. Instead, a woman in simple robes walked toward her carrying an ornate box decorated with flowers and gold filigree. The woman stopped at the base of the steps and held out the box without speaking. Inside were pastries glazed with honey, each one marked with a tiny rose pattern. Aphrodite recognized elven craftsmanship when she saw it. This gift was worth more than most men could afford. She could not turn this woman away. Rejecting the first visitor would spread through Elysium like fire through dry grass. Everyone would hear that Aphrodite refused a guest before her palace had even opened. The carefully built image of a woman so desired that men competed for her attention would crack before it had time to set. But accepting a woman as her first suitor would destroy the entire design. The gazebo visible beyond the arch was built for rivalry between powerful men, not this. Aphrodite took the box from the woman's hands. The pastries smelled like roses and gold. She met the woman's eyes and saw no challenge there, only calm certainty. This visitor knew exactly what she had done by arriving first. Aphrodite's grand opening had become something she could not control, and her perfect strategy now had a crack running straight through its foundation.