This outstanding man, so aligned with her hobbies and ideals, was supposed to be the perfect lifelong partner.
Yet the weight in her heart grew heavier with every passing moment, as if it was anchoring her feet to the ground, making it almost impossible to take a step.
In her mind's eye, the commanding figure of another man flickered into view, threatening to replace the face of the one before her.
Sophia closed her eyes, but all that greeted her was a blank void.
"Let's go." Roger's voice brought her back to the moment as he gently took her hand and led her toward the banquet hall. Outside, the guests had been waiting for quite some time.
"Alright," Sophia replied with a soft smile, letting him guide her forward. As they stood at the center of the venue, she instinctively reached up to adjust his bow tie, the gesture tender and intimate.
Although the event was closed to the media, the subtle dynamics of human interaction often proved to be the most effective medium for spreading information. The sight of the affectionate couple standing together immediately sparked murmured conversations among the attendees.
"They seem to have a pretty good relationship, don't they?"
"Yeah, but wasn't there talk about some entanglement between this Diaz family girl and the guy who kidnapped her? How is she suddenly marrying into the Roger family like this?"
"Oh, you don't know? I heard they had something going on even before all that. Word is, Miss Sophia even ended up in some unsavory places, and young Master Roger was one of her 'patrons.'"
"Tsk tsk… and this is fine?"
"Why not? Though I also heard that after she was rescued, she secretly met with someone else. But Roger doesn't seem to care. Look at them now, all lovey-dovey. Who knows what the real story is?"
Such gossip would normally leave Sophia feeling disheartened, but today, standing at the center of attention, she seemed farther away from the whispers than ever before.
As she caught sight of the murmuring guests, she could roughly guess the nature of their discussions. Yet, the tide of public opinion was beyond anyone's control. Over and over, she reminded herself to smile—*just smile.* After today, everything would be a fresh start.
The engagement ceremony was straightforward. A distinguished witness delivered a speech, the couple exchanged tokens, and they jointly cut a cream cake, marking the conclusion of the ceremony. The cake, made by Roger himself, featured a chocolate topper shaped like two abstract figures embracing and kissing—a symbol of their sweet future together.
The emcee struck the perfect balance between gravity and light humor, seamlessly guiding the ceremony forward. The witness, Roger's grandmother, a poised and dignified woman in her seventies, had flown in from Macau to attend. Her every gesture exuded both nobility and warm affection for her family. Her speech, delivered with the finesse of a seasoned business matriarch, effortlessly pushed the event toward its emotional climax.
Sophia thought the next step would be the exchange of tokens. However, when a staff member from the wedding company whispered something to the emcee, his brows furrowed slightly before he leaned into the microphone and announced an unexpected addition.
"Our couple today has experienced a truly romantic journey, leaving behind many beautiful moments. To add a special touch to this ceremony, we have a surprise gift—a visual presentation of their sweetest memories. Let's enjoy this heartfelt tribute together on the big screen!"
Sophia froze, her heart skipping a beat.
What?
She and Roger had no "beautiful moments" worth showcasing. Aside from the occasional photo on their phones, there were hardly any visual records of their relationship that could substantiate such a claim.
Moreover, neither the wedding company nor her bridal consultant had ever mentioned such a segment during the preparations.
Where did this mysterious gift come from?
A sense of foreboding surged in Sophia's chest.
In another room of the hotel, Capone stood with his arms crossed, a cold smirk tugging at his lips as he watched the live feed from the banquet hall unfold on the television screen. His gaze was fixed, sharp, and unrelenting, taking in every detail of the scene.
Yes, this "mysterious gift" was his doing. Its purpose was simple: to ensure everyone in attendance knew exactly who Sophia Diaz belonged to, and what had transpired during those days she claimed to have been kidnapped and mistreated after leaving home.
He hadn't wanted to go this far. He had warned Sophia not to push him. But the little woman hadn't heeded his words and insisted on going her own way.
He had told her to cancel the engagement, yet she went ahead and moved the ceremony up.
Did she think he'd miss it? That he wouldn't find out? Or even that he'd graciously give her his blessing?
Was it that he didn't understand her, or that she didn't understand him?
Watching her play the loving couple with Roger, standing together as though they were made for each other, burned like fire in his eyes. Could she really be so eager to marry someone else, so unwilling to give him even a little more time?
He had promised to offer her the most precious thing in exchange, but before he could, she had already taken another step forward, leaving him behind like a fool.
Capone exhaled deeply, waiting to see her shock and Roger's humiliation. He had given them a chance to avoid this outcome, but they refused to take it.
However, when the images began to play on the big screen, it wasn't just Sophia who was stunned—Capone froze as well. His arms dropped stiffly to his sides, his expression hardening into a mask of disbelief. His gaze locked on the screen, and a low growl escaped his lips:
"What is this?"
On the screen, one photo after another appeared, showing Sophia completely naked, lying beneath a man. The white sheets and curtains were transformed into a sea of crimson passion. Her expression was an unsettling mix of pleasure and restraint.
The man's identity was carefully obscured; the camera angles ensured that only Sophia's face—her full or side profile—was visible. But there was no mistaking the ring on the man's pinky finger. It was unique, something neither Capone nor Sophia could fail to recognize.
The crowd erupted into murmurs of shock and disbelief. Sophia's face turned ashen, her body swaying as if caught in a storm. She staggered back a step, looking like a leaf trembling in the autumn wind, ready to fall at any moment.
"Sophia..." Roger's arm slid behind her back to steady her trembling frame, and only then did he realize how violently she was shaking.
It wasn't just the trembling—there was an emptiness, a profound desolation. She looked like a fish pulled from the water for far too long, suffocating, her lips parted as though to breathe but unable to draw any air. Silent yet taut, it was as if her entire being had been hollowed out, leaving only a fragile shell behind.
Her gaze remained fixed on the horrific images playing on the screen, while her ears caught fragments of voices—mocking, gloating, murmurs of pity. Yet none of it seemed to register fully; all she could feel was the sharp, pounding pain in her eardrums. She wanted to raise her hands to cover her ears, but just as her fingers twitched, warm liquid welled in her eyes and spilled over. She couldn't even tell if it was tears or blood.
It felt as if blood was flowing freely somewhere deep inside her, draining her strength. How else could she feel so cold, so powerless?
Truly, it was as if she had fallen into an icy abyss. She hadn't fainted—something she found astonishing even in her dazed state.
Amidst the ringing in her ears, one sentence replayed over and over:
"Don't push me, or I'll ruin you completely."Capone's words.
So this was what he meant.
This was how he planned to destroy everything—her dignity, her future, dragging even the innocent man beside her into the wreckage.
For reasons she couldn't fathom, Sophia's gaze shifted to the silver knife on the nearby table, the one meant for cutting the cake. It was pristine, gleaming faintly under the soft lights.
At that moment, the doors to the banquet hall swung open. A group of people strode in, all clad in impeccably tailored dark suits. Their presence was striking—tall, poised, their steps brisk yet unhurried.
Leading the group was a man with strikingly deep-set and handsome features. His lips were pressed into a tight line, as though suppressing some intense, unspoken emotion.
The attention of the entire room shifted away from the screen to these newcomers—everyone's except Sophia's.
There was something commanding, almost storm-like, about them. Their polished appearance marked them as figures from the upper echelons of power and influence. Initially, the guests assumed they were merely late arrivals, but their unyielding aura and the tension simmering beneath the surface suggested otherwise. They seemed less like attendees and more like the true protagonists of the day.
The man leading the group walked straight toward the center of the hall, his gaze steady and unyielding. As he approached Sophia, he casually turned the ring on his pinky finger. Under the brilliance of the crystal chandeliers, the violet-gold band gleamed, catching the light in an almost deliberate way—though it went unnoticed by most of the crowd.
When Roger caught sight of the man's face, his expression shifted dramatically.