The nas of the fiancé and fiancée glowed on the massive hall's large screen, casting a soft light over the room. The golden letters shimred for a mont before the brightness dimd, allowing the atmosphere to settle into a refined elegance.
As the glow faded, Zethan Lyall and Lilia stepped in with practiced ease, their presence commanding attention.
A hush fell over the room, as if the very air had thickened. All heads turned, drawn to the couple at the center of attention—so faces reflecting disbelief, others confirming that the rumors were, indeed, true.
They were genuinely surprised that Zethan was officially getting engaged, aning he was actually celebrating it.
Lilia couldn't even rember the last ti she had been under such intense scrutiny. The weight of countless eyes pressed down on her, leaving an unsettling tightness in her chest. A part of her longed to turn away, to disappear into the shadows of the grand hall, but she knew that was impossible.
She had to endure it.
For so reason she couldn't quite explain, the large chandelier overhead flickered, casting a shifting glow in her direction. At that mont, Zethan glanced down at her, offering a subtle nod—a silent reassurance that he was by her side, that she had nothing to fear.
And, inexplicably, confidence welled up within her.
With steady steps, she walked beside him.
Her gaze swept over the sea of faces, pausing when it landed on her father. He sat at one of the grand tables, his hands folded neatly on his lap, a small, unreadable smile playing on his lips. But Lilia already knew the truth—it wasn't a smile ant for her. It was the look of a man satisfied with what he stood to gain tonight.
No one dared to say it aloud, but she understood.
Beside him sat her mother, her expression as pristine as ever, offering no warmth, no genuine emotion. Next to her was Lowell and her sister, dressed in identical ensembles—coordinated as always, presenting a united front. At least in appearance.
Finally, Zethan led her along the designated path to their reserved seats, positioned at the very front of the hall. The fiancé and fiancée had their own special place, ant to highlight them above the rest.
As they settled in, the lights returned to normal, yet the weight of the room's collective gaze lingered. So guests still seed frozen in shock, their disbelief refusing to fade.
Zethan Lyall—of all people—was tying the knot. Unbelievable.
The realization rippled through the crowd, quiet murmurs spreading like wildfire.
A brief silence filled the air. Then, before Lilia even realized it, a soft round of applause spread through the hall. A slow, hesitant beginning, but soon, more hands joined in—a subtle, yet unmistakable welco for the engaged couple.
Before she could fully process the mont, a waiter approached, elegantly pushing a polished rolling cart. This wasn't like normal, where the servers simply carried drinks on trays. No, this was deliberate. Ornate. Elegant.
A variety of drinks glistened under the chandelier's glow, neatly arranged atop the cart. The waiter's movents were precise as he ca to a stop beside them.
Zethan's sharp gaze flicked toward the selection before he gestured toward a particular bottle.
"Black wine."
His voice, though quiet, carried enough authority to make the waiter react imdiately. A bow followed, and soon, a set of fine glasses were placed before him.
But before Zethan could take them, he suddenly spoke again.
"No. Give her grape juice."
The waiter's eyes widened slightly in surprise but recovered just as quickly, nodding in understanding. Without hesitation, he rolled the cart away. Within less than a minute, another attendant arrived—this ti, with a different cart, offering an array of exquisite juices.
With practiced ease, the attendant selected a well-shaped, covered glass and placed it on the table beside Lilia.
She hesitated.
Why had Zaytan refused to let her drink the wine?
She had never had a single sip of alcohol in her life, but she had also never needed anyone to make that decision for her. And yet, strangely enough... she found herself relieved.
The last thing she wanted was to get drunk and embarrass herself. Especially not in front of this infuriating man, who would undoubtedly seize any opportunity to tease her.
She picked up the glass of grape juice and took a slow sip, carefully maintaining her composure. She was acutely aware of the countless eyes still on her, even if she couldn't pinpoint every single one.
She could feel it.
Of course, there were those who were happy for her. But mixed in were others who weren't as welcoming—those who barely hid their jealousy behind polite smiles and feigned indifference.
Still, she paid them no mind.
Before she knew it, the lights dimd once again, casting a soft glow over the area. A slow, ethereal light reached their table, drawing everyone's attention to the massive screen at the front of the hall.
Then, in bold, elegant letters, the symbol of their engagent appeared—TheRing.
A hushed reverence settled over the room.
The golden words shimred montarily before fading, leaving only the spotlight shining directly on her and Zethan.
He moved first.
With a calm, effortless motion, he raised his hand, displaying the ring. The erald-cut diamond glead under the dim lighting, its brilliance undeniable.
Lilia followed suit, lifting her hand as well.
The mont their hands aligned, the hall erupted in flashes—dozens of caras capturing the significance of the event.
She didn't flinch.
Years of training had taught her how to keep a perfect expression in monts like these. Her soft smile remained steady, unwavering, even as the lights montarily blinded her.
She had been trained for monts like this, just in case she ever got married. Her father had planned far ahead after that deal with Lowell's dad, wanting to make his child perfect and pure.
She'd learned many things she thought were unnecessary, as she rarely left ho. Surprisingly, those lessons turned out to be of good use.
Still, the attention was overwhelming.
What kind of engagent party was this?
Everything was done in perfect order, almost eerily silent, as if each movent had been rehearsed.
Then, as if on cue, the clinking of glasses filled the air.
The guests, one after another, lifted their wine glasses.
Zethan turned to her, lifting his own glass.
"Cheers."
Lilia adjusted her posture, careful with every movent, and gently clinked her glass against his.
In an instant, the entire hall followed. A soft symphony of glass-on-glass resonated throughout the room, signaling the finality of the occasion.
And then, as if released from invisible chains, conversations began to flow.
The previously subdued atmosphere shifted into a lively hum. The guests, now free to socialize, moved effortlessly through the hall, exchanging pleasantries, offering congratulations, and basking in the grand event.
One by one, well-dressed figures approached their table, nodding politely as they acknowledged the couple. So carried genuine smiles, others masked their true thoughts behind carefully curated expressions.
It was, after all, a social event.
And in social events, words rarely ant what they appeared to say.
Just then, an elderly man entered.
Lilia noticed him imdiately.
Unlike the others who exuded wealth through tailored suits and pristine jewelry, this man's presence alone spoke of his affluence. He didn't need embellishnts. He was wealth itself.
Still, despite his polished appearance, his hands—aged with ti—told a different story.
Without his riches, perhaps he would have looked much older.
His slow, deliberate steps carried him toward their table.
A small smile rested on his lips as he greeted Zethan.
"Mr. Zethan, long ti no see."
Zethan offered a nod—nothing more. The man, knowing better, didn't attempt to extend his hand. Zethan was never one for unnecessary gestures.
Finally, the man turned to Lilia.
"Your fiancé, I must say, is remarkably beautiful."
To everyone's surprise, Zethan actually grinned.
"You're not wrong."
The man hesitated for a fraction of a second—caught off guard by Zethan's response.
After all, Zethan Lyall wasn't one to offer unnecessary words.
Still, the old man turned back to Lilia, clearly pleased.
"It's really nice to et you, Miss Lilia. I'm Matthew"
Lilia returned his gaze with a polite smile.
"Nice to et you, Mr. Matthew. I must say, that suit fits you perfectly."
Lilia was taught one thing about the wealthy: they love complints. If you have any questions or want to start a conversation, always begin with a complint. She rembered one of the lessons.
A flicker of amusent crossed his features.
"Oh? Thank you. It's custom-made."
Lilia nodded thoughtfully.
"I see."
Zethan, anwhile, observed the exchange in silence.
He hadn't expected his usually reserved fiancée to speak so much.
The shock lingered on his face—just for a mont—before he masked it once again.
Then, as if sensing the shift, Mr. Matthew finally spoke again.
"I'm actually surprised you had an engagent party. We all thought you'd be marrying Miss Ava."
Lilia stilled.
That na...
It sounded familiar.
And then, it clicked.
Wasn't that the na Lucas had ntioned?
Wasn't Ava Zethan's ex-fiancée?
And as if to confirm her thoughts, the man added:
"I think I saw her earlier."
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