Lance braced himself for a beating from Manley, absorbing a couple of punches and defensively hugging his head. “Manley, I was wrong, I admit it,” he whimpered. “I won’t dare again, I swear. Please, just let me off this once. I’ll follow your lead from now on!”

It was clear to him: cross Jonathan, and his whole family paid the price; cross Manley, and he got roughed up.

Manley, having vented his anger and delivered one last kick to Lance, growled, “Get lost, and make sure I don’t see your face again!”

Disoriented from the beating, Lance scrambled away as soon as Manley loosened his grip.

Leaning against the wall, Manley lit a cigarette, drawing in a deep breath. A sly smile cracked his lips. He didn’t care what others thought of him, but knowing this got under Jonathan’s skin made it all worthwhile.

As Manley left, the banquet hall erupted in whispers. Mr. Scott, dismayed by the “incident,” lamented the misfortune that had befallen his family. Realizing the marriage arrangement with the Bradshaw family was now a pipe dream, he retreated upstairs.

In the shadow of a grand Corinthian column, Estelle and Jonathan had also witnessed the spectacle.

Jonathan was somewhat pleased with Lance’s performance. It wasn’t as heartfelt as Charlie had described, but it was effective nonetheless.

shot him a look. “Don’t tell me you put Lance

dares to bother you again, I’ll send him to Antarctica to

by

curved into a thin

“Jonathan!” Estelle frowned.

tickle in his heart. Deepening his eyes, he grasped her chin and pressed her against the

in front was a floor-to-ceiling window looking out onto a terrace. Anyone

murmured against her lips, “Don’t side with him. It

and she stood on tiptoes to return his kiss,

to resist, wishing he could just whisk her

faded; he wanted nothing more than to kiss her,

it was usually quiet, yet occasionally, someone would come by

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