Taylor murmured, taking a delicate sip from his wineglass.
His jade-like features softened with a faint smile.
All these years, Sandra’s relentless pursuit of Sinclair had worn thin on everyone’s patience.
"No matter," Sinclair replied, his strikingly handsome face was as composed and indifferent as ever.
Yet the turbulence of cold fury swirling in his eyes was unmistakably oppressive.
Sandra would soon learn the hard way that those who court disasters have only themselves to blame.
A glimmer of understanding passed simultaneously through Taylor and Calvin’s eyes.
So, Sinclair had already laid his plans.
The real question was just how spectacular this show would become.
This banquet might prove far more interesting than they’d anticipated.
"Miss Porter," came the cool inquiry, "what was it you wanted to tell me earlier?"
The man’s icy voice snapped Sandra out of her thoughts.
Her gaze shifted from Sinclair to Tyler, the infatuation in her eyes instantly replaced by unconcealed disgust.
Noticing this, Tyler’s expression remained unchanged.
Yet his hand, resting on his knee, clenched abruptly, veins bulging.
"You must forget everything that happened that night—pretend it never existed," Sandra warned in a low, frigid voice, leaning slightly forward so only he could hear.
"Otherwise, I swear I won’t let you off."
"Fine," Tyler agreed without hesitation.
"Then I’ll ask Miss Porter to meet me in the lounge behind the manor half an hour after the banquet begins," he said coolly, his eyes fixed on her.
"I’ll destroy the memory card and the recording from the car right in front of you."
Sandra frowned, her distaste for further contact with him evident.
"Just hand them over now. I’ll destroy them myself."
"With so many eyes around, are you sure that’s wise, Miss Porter?"
Tyler curled his lips into a smirk as he glanced around.
"Wouldn’t want to raise eyebrows if someone saw us," he said, deliberately emphasizing the words, "given it’s our *first* meeting."
Sandra followed his gaze, her delicate brows furrowing slightly as she caught a few curious stares.
"Fine," she replied, her icy gaze locking onto him.
"But don’t even think about playing games with me..
The Porter family isn’t one to be trifled with."
"You misunderstand, Miss Porter," Tyler countered, his expression unreadable.
"If I wanted to stir trouble, wouldn’t it be easier to just reveal everything right here and now?" She paused.
With a final dismissive glance, Sandra turned to leave.
His voice stopped her in her tracks.
she snapped. Sandra suppressed the anger on her face, careful not to draw attention.
But her tone was unmistakably impatient.
"Miss Porter and I share a certain... serendipitous connection," Tyler raised his glass with an unreadable, gentle smile, as if oblivious to her irritation.
"Care for a drink before we part ways?"
The banquet guests were sharp-eyed and keen-eared, after all.
And given Sandra and Tyler’s particularly notable statuses, their prolonged conversation had long since piqued curiosity.
"What could Sandra and Tyler Luther be discussing so intently?"
"Doesn’t she usually look down on every man except CEO Luther?"
"Could it be that since she can’t have Sinclair Luther, she’s settling for the younger brother as a consolation prize?"
"A pale imitation of the real thing?" "...Serendipitous connection?" Sandra scoffed, her gaze icy as it locked onto Tyler. "More like a cursed one."
Sandra had no intention of wasting any more time with Tyler here.
With a defiant tilt of her head, she downed the entire glass of red wine in one swift motion.
"Happy now?" Tyler’s lips curled into a deeper smirk as he watched her empty the glass.
Without a word, he mirrored her action, draining his own drink with an unsettlingly composed expression.
"Feel free to go, Miss Porter."
Sandra scoffed, not even sparing him a backward glance as she turned on her heel and strode away.
She carelessly set the empty glass aside, snatched a fresh one from a passing waiter, and made a beeline for Sinclair.
What she didn’t notice was the loaded glance exchanged between Margaret and Tyler behind her—silent, knowing, and brimming with unspoken schemes.
Sandra’s striking features softened into a radiant smile as she approached him, her voice dripping with a sweetness she reserved for no one else.
"You’re finally here.
I’ve been waiting forever."
"The star of tonight’s banquet isn’t me."
Sinclair narrowed his sharp eyes, gazing indifferently at Sandra.
His dark pupils held not a trace of warmth.
"Miss Porter, you’ve been waiting for the wrong person."
His voice wasn’t loud, but it carried just enough for everyone nearby to hear.
The icy tone, laced with unmistakable detachment, left no room for misunderstanding.
It was as if the woman standing before him was nothing more than a complete stranger.
Taylor and Calvin—each strikingly handsome in their own distinct way—exchanged knowing smiles.
They casually stepped aside, each picking up a glass of wine, settling into their roles as unburdened spectators.
Of course, they weren’t the only ones watching.
Nearly every pair of eyes in the banquet hall was fixed on the scene.
The smile on Sandra’s face instantly twisted into humiliation, her beautiful eyes glistening with unshed tears.
"We grew up together.
After all these years of friendship, why must you treat me ?"
A beauty on the verge of tears is most likely to evoke pity.
Any ordinary man would have softened instantly at such a sight.
But unfortunately, Sinclair was anything but ordinary.
"Friends?" His deep, languid voice dripped with undisguised mockery and icy detachment..
"I believe Miss Porter has misunderstood the nature of our relationship," he said, his thin lips parting as he enunciated each word with deliberate clarity.
"Between you and me, there has never been anything resembling friendship.
Merely an acquaintance."
Not friends—just acquaintances?!
His words struck Sandra like a silent yet brutal slap across the face, delivered in front of everyone.
Her eyes brimmed with tears, her red lips trembling.
Her delicate, tear-streaked face was the picture of pitiable sorrow.
Sinclair, holding a wine glass, strode past her with an indifferent expression.
From start to finish, he didn’t spare her so much as a second glance.
Apart from Camilla, anyone else’s tears only filled him with irritation.
Sandra froze in place, stunned by his cold dismissal.
A hushed murmur spread through the crowd.
"President Luther really has no regard for a lady’s feelings," one man muttered under his breath.
"Why is Miss Porter putting herself through this?
There are plenty of talented young men in the capital—it’s not like Sinclair is the only one," another chimed in.
Does she really plan to cling to a lost cause?"
Most of the whispers among the younger men carried tones of envy and resentment toward Sinclair, mixed with pity and indignation for Sandra.
On the other hand, the wealthy socialites and ladies had an entirely different perspective.
"President Luther is already married. Isn’t it inappropriate for Sandra to openly chase after him ?"
"Absolutely. Everyone knows the real star of tonight’s event is the Luther Family’s madam—though she hasn’t made an appearance yet."
"Still, you have to admire Miss Porter’s persistence.
Even with President Luther treating her , she still refuses to leave his side..."
From a distance, Tyler watched Sandra with a cold sneer twisting his lips.
What was so special about Sinclair?
What a blind fool. Just then, the clock struck eight.
"Ladies and gentlemen—"
The music faded, and the lights converged on the central stage at the front of the banquet hall.
Instantly, all attention shifted toward it.