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.

“Don’t tell me you put Lance

with me. And if he dares to bother you

sighed. “Alright, he’s probably fuming by now. Let’s just

into a thin smile.

“Jonathan!” Estelle frowned.

anger, and he couldn’t help but feel a tickle in his heart. Deepening his eyes,

the column was a crowded banquet hall, and in front was a floor-to-ceiling window looking out onto a terrace. Anyone could pass by, and Estelle, nervous, grabbed his wrist, whispering, “Not

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

on tiptoes to return his kiss, her eyes locked onto

resist, wishing he could

faded; he wanted nothing more than

beyond the window wasn’t the main corridor, so it was usually quiet, yet occasionally,

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