“My name’s Emily Carter. I’m Evelyn’s younger sister,” she said matter-of-factly.
“From now on, don’t say a word. Just come with me.”
Her doll-like face didn’t match the icy tone of her voice. She grabbed my hand firmly.
But I didn’t move. Instead, I asked evenly, “Did your sister send you to help me?”
“What do you think?” Emily snapped, brows furrowing. “If you don’t come now, you won’t be able to leave at all.”
At that moment, several more bodyguards in black suits began drifting toward me.
Emily sighed, letting go of my hand and slumping back in her chair. She knew as well as I did that she couldn’t get me out.
“You shouldn’t have come,” she murmured, almost to herself. “If it weren’t for you, my sister wouldn’t be stuck marrying that short, greasy creep.”
For me?
I was taken aback, but before I could press her further, a stir rippled through the banquet hall.
Marco and Evelyn headed toward the entrance, signaling everyone to rise.
Seven or eight young elites entered, men and women alike, their tailored suits and gowns matched by the quiet confidence in their bearing.