"Perhaps you should attend," Horace excitedly continued, not realizing how rapidly Alia’s face had turned pale. "I think I have an invitation here sowhere..."
He dug through the pockets of his coat, and soon enough, he pulled out a small, vanilla-scented envelope, identical to the one Matteo and Ronan had showed her just last night.
"O-Oh no..." Alia said, laughing awkwardly as she shook her head. "I really shouldn’t."
What was she going to do when she showed up anyway? It didn’t seem like Horace knew that she was the sa Alia that his granddaughter’s fiancé supposedly was having a romantic affair with, and Alia wasn’t sure if she should even bring up the matter. Perhaps he hadn’t seen the news yet, since the rumors of her affair were only circulating in the celebrity tabloids.
Forget accompanying this man to the occasional brunch― if Horace Hawthorne found out that Alia was obstructing the path to his beloved granddaughter’s lifelong happiness, she would be skinned and fed to the dogs by sunrise.
"You seem to be my granddaughter’s age," Horace comnted, still smiling. "If you t her, I think you two might beco great friends."
Alia highly doubted that. That would be the equivalent of Alia becoming great friends with Kelsie Friesent, and the last ti they t, if it weren’t for Matteo, Kelsie would’ve torn her to shreds.
"I..." Alia stuttered. Then, her face lit up as she thought of a good argunt. "It would be odd for to attend!" She all but yelled, grateful that they were in a private dining space rather than an open diner. "I am not family, nor a friend of the bride or groom. This would just be strange."
"Nonsense," Horace said, waving the matter off. "You can attend as my god-daughter. Emline will not care for the guest list― there are too many people invited for her to keep count of who’s coming and who isn’t."
Before Alia could argue further, Horace reached forward and all but shoved the invitation into her hands. The silver flecks in the cardstock glittered underneath the restaurant lighting as if taunting Alia of its brilliance.
"It’s in two weeks," Horace said. "If you have nothing to wear, you can let my assistant know. We will find you sothing suitable."
With that final nail in the coffin, Alia slumped in her chair. The only way out of this was to fess up and tell Horace the truth but call her a coward, she didn’t dare to.
Now, the only thing Alia could do was to pocket the invitation with a smile and a nod. Perhaps she could feign illness the day before the party― that way, she wouldn’t have to attend as Horace’s guest or as Matteo’s plus one. Either way, it would be disastrous.
"This is my personal number," Horace said, pulling out a small business card. "If there’s anything you need, feel free to reach out." He then gestured to the table once Alia had taken hold of the business card. "Now co. The food’s getting cold."
***
"You should go," Matteo said, barely even lifting his eyes from his laptop screen.
"Go?" Alia echoed, almost shrieking. "Go where? Go to jail?"
Matteo didn’t respond, his fingers flying across the keyboard as he handled so work out of Alia’s view.
"I can’t pretend to be the Hawthorne heiress now that Horace Hawthorne knows who I am," Alia lanted. "Just attempting to lie will land in the nearest police station. Not to ntion, if I show up and Horace finds out that I lied to him and he had just let the wolf into the sheep’s pen, I would be killed!"
She paced back and forth in the living room, her feet a blur.
"I can’t do that to an old man," Alia said. "I feel so awful to have to lie, especially when he was kind enough to invite to a family event."
"You’re not invited to a family event," Matteo said. He finally tore his eyes away from the screen, looking up to et Alia’s gaze. "This is a networking event― every event organized by the elite circle is. Hundreds and thousands of people have been invited, including the dia."
"Isn’t that worse?" Alia said. "My na has been sared and dragged through the mud all thanks to―"
She stopped herself short when Caleb’s na was about to leave her lips. Just the thought of him left her boiling in rage. All love she bore for him had shriveled and died, and all that was left was fuming anger.
"Caleb Walton," Matteo finished for her. "I saw the livestream. Or to be exact, Ronan did, and he made sure to repeat it to word for word."
Alia looked unsurely at Matteo. "You don’t believe what he said, do you?"
Matteo raised an eyebrow. "I think I would know if I was having an affair with a married woman," he said.
"With the news of our engagent and Caleb now revealing my history with him, the dia is going to have a field day," Alia said with a frustrated groan. "Should we step out to clarify this? It could affect the company if we don’t. Isn’t that why we’re getting engaged in the first place?"
Matteo said nothing, rely looking at Alia for a split second. He then shrugged and averted his gaze, choosing to shut his laptop close before rising to his feet.
"The dia will eventually move on to a different, fresher topic," Matteo said. "And if they don’t, then perhaps we should give them one."
"Give them one?" Alia repeated, tilting her head slightly to one side in confusion. "How?"
"We ought to leak so news to the press," Matteo calmly said.
He walked forward, stopping only a step away from Alia. With their height difference, Alia had to tilt her head up significantly just to et his gaze.
"We will need to appear in love," Matteo said. "After all, the rumors are that you’re marrying for my wealth."
"Which is sothing I can never understand," Alia grumbled under her breath. "As if a man like you would need to stoop so low as to find a gold-digger to love. You could have any woman in the world if you wanted."
The corner of Matteo’s lips slightly tilted into a smile, but it quickly disappeared before Alia could catch it.
"Well then," he said instead. "Would my lovely fiancée like to join for a dinner date in the city?"
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