Outside the door, Melissa was seething with helpless rage.
The moment she heard the door open, she quickly straightened up, schooling her expression into one of forced composure.
But when she realized it wasn’t Sinclair emerging, her frustration flared up all over again.
Vicente’s lips curved into a smirk, amusement dancing in his eyes.
"Come on," he said, his deep voice laced with amusement.
"I’ll find a way for you to vent."
His long arm slid around Melissa’s slender waist, half-guiding, half-dragging her away.
"Just remember," Melissa huffed, her tone dripping with haughty defiance, "you’re the one forcing me to leave."
She tossed her head slightly.
"Otherwise, I wouldn’t let this slide so easily."
"Exactly," Vicente coaxed gently.
"You only let Sinclair off the hook because of me." His little girlfriend was both timid and stubborn.
But utterly adorable.
The room fell into sudden silence.
Sinclair narrowed his eyes, his deep gaze fixed intently on Camilla.
His stare was unusually meticulous, and yet... burning with intensity.
Even though they were married, Camilla couldn’t help but feel her heart race under his undisguised scrutiny.
Her soft voice broke the quiet, charged atmosphere.
"I’ll go change first."
She didn’t even need to ask—it was obvious Sweetheart wouldn’t want her wearing this dress to the party.
Camilla stepped into the dressing room and reached for the hidden zipper at her waist, but her fingers found nothing.
Frowning, she lowered her head to search again.
At that moment, the slightly ajar fitting room door was pushed open from the outside.
The distinctive scent of ebony sandalwood—unmistakably masculine—wafted in like an invading tide.
"No rush," Sinclair enveloped Camilla from behind, resting his chin lightly on the crook of her neck.
"You look breathtaking , Camilla."
With effortless ease, she could ignite his most primal desires.
His deep, magnetic voice vibrated against her ear, each breath sending shivers down her spine. Camilla lifted her gaze and caught their entwined reflection in the mirror.
A sudden memory flashed through her mind—that incident in a San Francisco boutique’s fitting room—making her cheeks flush crimson beyond control.
Noticing her expression, Sinclair’s lips curved into a knowing smirk. "What’s on your mind, Camilla?"
The faint rasp in his voice carried undisguised amusement.
Camilla quickly banished the mental image, pressing her lips together.
"I was just thinking—no matter how beautiful this dress is, you’d never let me wear it outside, would you?"
Of course, she’d merely plucked that excuse out of thin air.
A deeper smile played at the corners of Sinclair’s lips as his veined hands caressed Camilla’s slender waist, which showed no trace of pregnancy.
"Are you blaming me, Camilla?"
Suddenly remembering the "get-out-of-jail-free card" in her belly that kept the man from misbehaving, Camilla felt emboldened.
With a coy smile, she pressed her cheek against his and gazed at their reflection in the mirror, her voice soft as silk.
"What do you think, sweetheart?"
Sinclair narrowed his eyes, a fleeting shadow passing through them before he replied in a low, measured tone,
"Since you’ve said it out loud, of course you are. In that case..."
His strong arms wrapped around her gently as he lifted her onto the desk, turning her to face him.
"I’ll have to find a way to make it up to you."
Camilla’s long lashes fluttered slightly, but before she could react, his lips were already on hers—possessive, demanding.
Then, inch by inch, he trailed lower.
Until finally, the ever-composed Sinclair knelt before her without hesitation. ...
Time slipped away in a blur.
Soon, dusk descended upon the land.
The charity gala hosted by the E Kingdom’s royal family was being held in an ancient castle, its scale nothing short of spectacular.
All nearby roads had been cordoned off, prohibiting unauthorized vehicles from passing through or approaching the vicinity.
A crimson welcome carpet stretched from within the castle walls all the way out several kilometers.
Every major media outlet in the entire E Kingdom had dispatched their reporters well in advance, now waiting eagerly on the scene.
Under the anticipatory gazes of the crowd, the first limousine slowly approached.
The ancient castle estate hosting the charity gala was situated in the most prestigious district of City—a serene oasis amidst the urban bustle.
The surroundings were breathtaking, with lush groves of trees framing the landscape.
The classic gray-and-white architecture exuded a timeless elegance, transporting visitors to a medieval fortress steeped in history.
At the castle’s entrance, impeccably dressed butlers and ushers in tailored suits and white gloves stood poised with dignified grace.
The moment an approaching vehicle came into view, they stepped forward with practiced efficiency.
The waiting press corps immediately perked up, cameras at the ready.
"This year’s gala is far more extravagant than previous ones—every guest here is headline-worthy."
"I wonder when the Three Great Families will arrive."
"Rumor has it Harrison will be bringing the reclusive Miss Juliet Bernardo of the Bernardo family.
We can’t miss this chance to break the hottest story."
Under the watchful eyes of the crowd, a designated attendant opened the car door.
A middle-aged man in a tailored suit, leaning on a cane, and an exquisitely dressed woman with flawless poise stepped out of the car, their faces adorned with composed, elegant smiles.
Yet upon closer inspection, one could see that the warmth of those smiles never reached their eyes.
The butler greeting them bowed slightly. "President Thomas, Mrs. Thomas, please follow me."
The couple nodded and trailed behind the butler as they made their way into the ancient castle.
Their expressions and demeanor were impeccably polished, as if rehearsed countless times.
Though the Thomas family didn’t rank among the top three elite clans, their shadowy history in the underworld lent them an air of mystique that set them apart—especially the current patriarch, Mr.Thomas.
Seizing the moment, the media erupted in a frenzy of flashing cameras.
Before long, several more luxury cars rolled in, each carrying titans of global commerce.
Well-groomed men and women emerged, stepping gracefully onto the red carpet as they filed into the castle.
Nearby, photographers frantically clicked their shutters.
Soon, the hashtag #CharityGala began trending, climbing to the top of every major media platform.
Inside the castle, the soaring ceilings stretched over ten meters high, and the grand hall spanned thousands of square meters.
The grand entrance was adorned with a magnificent fountain, its walls graced by masterpieces from centuries past, while beneath their feet lay the priceless carpets.
A colossal crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling, its dazzling radiance bathing the opulent hall in a golden glow.
"Count Aston has certainly spared no expense for this charity gala," someone murmured.
"Well, with the whole world watching, he couldn’t afford to cut corners," another replied.
"Still, this is one of the Queen’s former residences.
The fact that she allowed Count Aston to host the event here speaks volumes about her favor toward him."
"It’s not him she favors—it’s the Crown Princess behind him."
She *is* the first in line to the throne now."
"Wouldn’t have been her turn if that heir apparent hadn’t met with misfortune—"
Royal affairs are none of our concern.
Best not invite trouble."
At the warning, the group swiftly changed the subject.
"Things haven’t been peaceful in our country lately."
"You mean the Mega family affair? Still, their downfall was shockingly sudden.
They were a powerhouse for nearly a century."
"That family was split right down the middle, rotten from within.
It was only a matter of time before one side collapsed.
But no one expected Stephen to be so ruthless."
The elders of the Mega estate had met grim fates—some dead, others driven to madness, the rest locked away.
None had been spared a tragic end.
If Stephen knew what they were thinking, he would undoubtedly feel both exasperated and wronged.
The one who had brought the Mega family to ruin in such a short time wasn’t him.
If he had that kind of power, he wouldn’t have waited this long to act.
These people were giving him far too much credit.
The banquet hall was already bustling with guests, the air alive with the clink of glasses and the murmur of hushed conversations and laughter.
Most of the men were engrossed in business talk, while the women were far more interested in jewelry and gossip.
Harrison’s fiancée has been switched from the second daughter of the Bernardo family to the eldest daughter—the one who rarely makes public appearances."
You can just swap fiancées like that?!"
"Getting her fiancé stolen by her own sister—Queen must be feeling that slap hard."
"Serves her right. With that temper of hers, no man could stand her for long."
"I’m more curious about this elusive eldest Bernardo sister.
What kind of woman could make someone like Harrison fall for her—enough to pull off a switch ?"
"We’ll find out soon enough." ... Just as the chatter continued, a sudden commotion erupted outside the doors.