Obviously, she wasn’t worried about me.
She was worried that my presence would embarrass her.
I nodded, silently wheeling myself away.
—
I had just turned a corner when a strong grip yanked me sideways.
Before I could react, I was dragged into a private lounge.
Once inside, I froze.
The men who had once humiliated me stood there, waiting—the very same ones Clara had promised had been sent to prison.
But they weren’t locked away.
They were here, like demons crawling out of my nightmares.
All the blood drained from my face.
From the crowd, Henry stepped forward, the mask finally slipped from his face, revealing raw malice.
"Jayce, wouldn’t it have been better to just rot away in some forgotten corner of the world? Why did you have to come back and fight me for what’s mine?"
I swallowed back my fear and swore. "I’ll leave. From now on, you’ll be the only young master of the Evans family."
However, Henry sneered. "I trust dead men more."
Then, without warning, he ripped his own expensive dress shirt apart. Buttons immediately flew, and he messed up his hair.
He threw open the door and screamed for help.
Soon after, Clara rushed in with a crowd, her wedding dress trailing behind her.