• ° • ° • °

The room shimmered under golden light, the kind that could almost blind someone unused to such grandeur. This was no ordinary gathering—it was the epitome of luxury, filled with A-list celebrities, Oscar-winning directors, Golden Globe actors, and the crème de la crème of the entertainment industry. There wasn’t a single face I didn’t recognize. This had to be one of the wealthiest gatherings I had ever witnessed.

As I scanned the crowd, I spotted Lucas engaged in conversation with an older man I assumed to be the President. Beside him stood a middle-aged woman, both radiating an air of authority. Slowly, I made my way towards them, and Lucas noticed me approaching alongside Selena. He politely excused himself from the conversation to come over, but Selena declined the invitation.

“I came here for you, not for them. I’ll ruin the mood if I get anywhere near their orbit,” she said with a casual shrug before wandering off to socialize with the guests.

Following Lucas, I felt the stares of the room fall on me.

The President was an older man, slender but dignified, dressed in a sharp grey suit. He had the aura of a scholar, complete with glasses on a chain and gloves that only added to his regal appearance. He was handsome, even with his silver strands and the faint wrinkles that hinted at his age. A walking stick hung loosely at his side, though it didn’t seem like he relied on it for support—his posture was as straight as an arrow, every movement precise and deliberate.

The woman beside him mirrored his composure, though she had an even more unreadable expression. There was something almost judgmental in the way she observed people, her eyes sharp. Despite the lines of age on her face, she had an elegance that suggested she had once been a striking beauty. Her black hair, threaded with silver, further underscored her timeless grace.

They both acknowledged me with a nod, and Lucas proceeded to introduce me, detailing my family background and professional career—carefully omitting the dramatic family feud, which I silently thanked him for. However, I wasn’t prepared for what came next.

The President’s eyes locked onto me, and he wasted no time in asking, “We all know Lucas doesn’t love anyone. He can only offer respect and support. It’s been less than 24 hours since you’ve known him. So, be honest. Why did you agree to marry him?”

I glanced at Lucas, who seemed completely unbothered by the question. Either he had complete faith in me or simply didn’t care. But my response was crucial—it could decide my future, and there was no way I could go back to my old life.

The President’s skepticism suggested he was looking for a hidden agenda. Perhaps he expected me to confess some opportunistic motive, or maybe he was testing whether I truly understood Lucas’s emotional distance. Regardless, I had to tread carefully.

So, I went with the truth.

“If I wanted love, I’d be looking for a boyfriend, not a husband,” I replied calmly. “What I want now is someone who respects my choices and my personal space without interfering. That’s why I agreed to marry Lucas.”

The President’s gaze shifted between me and his son, his face unreadable. Was this a pass or a fail?

“You’ve got a good eye,” he finally said, offering a faint smile in Lucas’s direction.

Before I could react, the woman beside him, the Madam, wrapped her arm around me warmly and pulled me close.

“Welcome to the family, dear. Don’t mind the President—he can be tough, but you’re like a daughter to us now,” she said, smiling graciously.

It felt like a performance of good cop, bad cop. I nodded politely, grateful for the welcome. The President, however, stole another glance at me, quickly coughing when he realized I’d caught him.

Lucas remained stoic, standing by his father’s side as he looked out over the crowd. We were positioned on the grand staircase, somewhat isolated from the rest of the guests. Though they whispered and chatted about us, no one dared approach until the host formally announced us. I had no idea what we were waiting for, but the tension was palpable.

“Where’s Victor?” the President asked, glancing around. “I hope he’s not flirting with some makeup artists again.”

Lucas stayed silent, but the mention of Victor piqued my curiosity. Victor? There was no Victor Walker in the entertainment industry, at least none I had heard of. If he was mingling with makeup artists, he had to be a celebrity of some kind. Perhaps he used a stage name. But I couldn’t recall ever coming across anyone with that name connected to the family.

After a few minutes, the atmosphere shifted as a man entered the room. He wore a sharp blue suit, his dark hair neatly gelled back.

Victor?

He headed straight for Lucas, embracing him with an easy familiarity. I was stunned to see Lucas actually return the gesture with a smirk. Looking closely, I noticed this man had the same sharp features as Lucas, though he had grey eyes and a more relaxed, almost flirtatious aura. He reminded me of Flynn Rider from Tangled, minus the beard. His jawline was sharp, and his grin could charm just about anyone.

He shook hands with the President and Madam before turning to me with a wolfish smile.

“So, you’re the bride, Miss Wilsonville. I must admit, I was confused at first—who could possibly agree to marry this stone face? But then I realized it was someone I didn’t expect at all. You sure know how to surprise people.”

I glanced at Lucas, but he wasn’t paying attention to us. Clearly, I was on my own here.

“It’s nice to meet you… Mr…?”

The man let out a booming laugh that startled me.

“Apologies, I’ve been rude. Allow me to introduce myself.” He gave a slight bow. “I’m Brian O’Conner, CEO of TK Entertainment, and Lucas’s childhood best friend. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Wilsonville.”

I shook his hand, smiling politely. “Nice to meet you too, Mr. O’Conner.”

Before I could say more, the President whispered, “He’s here.”

Everyone turned toward the entrance. Brian excused himself, and I followed their gazes. A new figure had entered the room, and suddenly, the entire hall fell silent.

• ° • ° • °