The grand ballroom was a spectacle of elegance, with crystal chandeliers casting a warm glow over the sea of impeccably dressed guests. Soft music played in the background, but Evelyn Lancaster hardly noticed.
Her mind was occupied with the reality of the situation—she was about to marry a man she believed to be a cold, ruthless stranger. Yet, as she approached the altar, the pieces began to fall into place, and a sense of dread crept in. This is beyond insanity. Based on that Lunatic expression, he too seems surprised but albeit too delighted.
The man standing before her wasn't just any Whittaker; he was that Whittaker—Alexander Arcene, the man who had been a thorn in her side for years, the so-called "Lunatic" who had matched her blow for blow in countless skirmishes. This bad, bad!
Evelyn's footsteps faltered momentarily, but she quickly recovered, her expression cool and composed as she reached the altar. The realization hit her like a punch to the gut, but she refused to show any sign of weakness.
Alexander, on the other hand, seemed to be thoroughly enjoying himself. His sharp blue eyes twinkled with amusement as he took in her reaction, a smirk playing on his lips. "Fancy meeting you here, darling," he drawled, his tone laced with mischief.
Evelyn's eyes narrowed. "So it's you," she muttered, barely moving her lips as the officiant began to speak. The crowd, blissfully unaware of the tension between the couple, watched with rapt attention.
Alexander leaned in slightly, his voice a teasing whisper. "You don't look too happy to see me. I'm hurt."
"Don't flatter yourself," Evelyn shot back quietly, her annoyance barely contained. Of all the people she could have been forced to marry, it had to be him—the one man who knew exactly how to push her buttons.
Evelyn struggled to keep her focus. The ceremony seemed to stretch on forever, with Alexander occasionally throwing in a sly comment or a knowing glance that made her want to roll her eyes. He was enjoying her discomfort, and it took all of her self-control not to react.
When it was time to exchange vows, Alexander took her hand with exaggerated gentleness, his smirk widening. "I vow to cherish every moment we spend together," he said, his voice dripping with faux sincerity. "Especially those moments where I can drive you mad."
Evelyn barely resisted the urge to snatch her hand away. "I vow to tolerate you, as long as you don't get in my way," she replied, her voice laced with a dry edge that made a few guests chuckle, thinking it was just playful banter.
Alexander's grin only widened at her response. "I wouldn't dream of it, darling," he murmured, his tone all too familiar.
The moment the officiant declared them husband and wife, Alexander wasted no time leaning in for the obligatory kiss. Evelyn had braced herself for a quick, impersonal peck, but Alexander, always the provocateur, drew it out just long enough to make her cheeks flush in irritation. The crowd erupted into applause, mistaking the tension for passion. She knew it! This man is a crazy bastard!
As they turned to face their guests, Alexander leaned closer, his voice a playful whisper. "You know, this could be fun. I've always enjoyed our little games."
Evelyn clenched her jaw, her eyes forward as she forced a smile. "Try anything, and I'll make sure this marriage is the shortest in history."
Alexander chuckled softly. "Looking forward to it."
The reception that followed was a blur of well-wishers, clinking glasses, and polite conversation. Throughout it all, Alexander remained close, taking every opportunity to tease her, whether it was with a whispered comment, a playful nudge, or a knowing look. His playful antics, which had once been mildly annoying, now felt like a constant test of her patience.
*****
The ballroom was abuzz with murmured conversations, the clinking of glasses, and the soft shuffle of feet on the polished marble floor. Most of the guests appeared to be from high society—elegant, refined, and unaware of the more shadowy figures that had also been invited.
But to those with a keener eye, the room was filled with more than just the typical wealthy elite. Mingling seamlessly among the civilians were men and women whose lives were anything but ordinary, figures from the underworld who had come to pay their respects to the infamous Whittaker family.
As Evelyn stood at the altar with Alexander, several pairs of eyes in the crowd recognized her. They exchanged discreet glances, whispering among themselves.
"Isn't that Evelyn Lancaster?" one man murmured, his tone laced with surprise.
"The same one who worked with the Crimson Legion?" another added, his eyes widening as he tried to remember the image of the bride with the notorious figure they knew from the shadows.
Gregory Whittaker, seated among his family members, caught wind of the hushed conversations. His brow furrowed in confusion. He had known that Evelyn was the true daughter of the Hartley family, a fact revealed only recently.
But to him, she was nothing more than a girl who had inherited a small bookstore, someone harmless and far removed from the brutal world. The idea that she could be connected to the Crimson Legion, a covert government unit renowned for its ruthlessness, was inconceivable.
"What are they talking about?" Gregory muttered under his breath, trying to make sense of the murmurs.
One of his long-time associates, a man deeply embedded in the underworld, leaned in closer. "You didn't know? That girl up there, she's a member of the Crimson Legion. The government's finest, and one of their most dangerous assets."
Gregory's eyes widened in shock. "Impossible. She's just a bookstore owner."
The associate chuckled softly, a knowing glint in his eye. "If that's what you were led to believe, then she's done her job well. But trust me, Gregory, that woman is anything but ordinary. Your son might have just married one of the most formidable operatives out there."
Gregory's mind raced as he tried to piece together the information. He had instructed Alexander not to investigate his bride before the wedding, insisting that it was unnecessary.
To him, Evelyn was just another piece in the puzzle, a way to secure his youngest son's future so he could focus on other matters, like grooming his grandson, Daniel, to take over the family business.
On the altar, Evelyn maintained her composed exterior. She had always suspected the Whittaker name was familiar, especially since Daniel shared it, but she had dismissed it, focusing instead on the present. Now, standing beside Alexander, she could see the truth in his eyes.
He was none other than the lunatic she had clashed with so many times before, Alexander Arcene, the man who had driven her to the edge of her patience more times than she could count.
The realization had struck her like a bolt of lightning, but she hadn't let it show. She couldn't afford to. If the guests saw her falter, if they suspected any hesitation, it would only create more chaos. And in her line of work, chaos was a double-edged sword.
For his part, Alexander remained stoic, his expression unreadable. But beneath that calm façade, he was equally taken aback. He had agreed to this marriage as a means to an end, a way to fulfill his family's wishes and gain the freedom he craved. But for some reason, Lady Luck is truly on his side. He smiles wider in approval.
His father had insisted that his bride was nothing more than a simple woman, someone who would not interfere with his operations. The fiery woman before him was the very same adversary who had challenged him on numerous occasions, and she had no idea she was walking into a marriage with the same man who had been a part of her past.
The tension between them is quite evident, though the guests interpreted it as mere nerves. But those from the underworld, the ones who knew better, could sense the undercurrents of recognition and surprise. They exchanged knowing looks, silently acknowledging the irony of the situation.
"The Whittaker family truly is something else," one whispered to another, his voice barely audible over the clinking glasses. "To capture someone like Evelyn Lancaster? They've outdone themselves."
"Or maybe it's the other way around," his companion replied, smirking. "Perhaps she's the one who captured them, and they don't even realize it yet."
Gregory still thinking from the revelations, tried to maintain his composure. He couldn't let this slip. If the guests saw him falter, it would be a sign of weakness, and in his world, weakness was as good as a death sentence. He stole a glance at Alexander, hoping to see some sign of discomfort, but his son was as impassive as ever, giving nothing away.
When the ceremony concluded, and the newlyweds turned to face their audience, the applause was loud and enthusiastic. Yet beneath the polite clapping and smiles, there was an undercurrent of curiosity, even fear. This was no ordinary union, and everyone knew it.
As Evelyn and Alexander walked down the aisle, side by side, they exchanged a glance that spoke volumes. Neither had anticipated this twist of fate, yet neither would back down. They had faced each other as enemies before, and now they would face each other as husband and wife. The battlefield had changed, but the players remained the same.
And as the ballroom doors closed behind them, Gregory Whittaker couldn't help but feel that he had set something in motion that even he couldn't control.
*****
Sophia turned her attention to her parents, who were deep in conversation with Gregory and some of the other guests. She plastered on a bright smile, hiding the storm brewing inside her. They don't need to know what I'm thinking. They'd only worry or tell me I'm being unreasonable. But I'm not—
"Darling, are you enjoying yourself?" her mother asked, noticing Sophia's distant expression.
"Of course, Mother," Sophia replied smoothly. "It's such a lovely event. Evelyn looks beautiful, doesn't she?"
Her mother nodded. "She does. And Alexander seems quite taken with her. I'm glad it's all worked out so well."
Sophia's smile tightened, though her voice remained light. "Yes, well, he's certainly a handsome man. I suppose it's only natural that he'd be kind to her."
Her father, who had been listening with a bemused expression, added, "We mustn't forget how fortunate we are that Daniel is also such a fine young man. He'll be a good match for you."
Sophia's mind raced. She nodded, but her thoughts were elsewhere. If only I could have had Alexander. How different things might have been…
Later, as she found herself standing beside Daniel, who was engrossed in a conversation with a few of his old friends, she couldn't help but let her true feelings slip through her carefully crafted facade.
"Daniel," she began, her voice laced with false sweetness, "don't you think it's a shame that Alexander has to be so kind to Evelyn? It's almost… unexpected."
Daniel looked up, his face a mask of polite confusion. "What do you mean?"
Sophia forced a laugh, waving her hand dismissively. "Oh, nothing. I suppose I just imagined he'd be more… distant. But seeing him with her, it's clear he cares."
Daniel raised an eyebrow. "Well, I suppose that's the nature of marriage, isn't it? You have to care for your partner."
Sophia's eyes flashed with something akin to frustration, but she quickly masked it with a bright smile. "Of course. It's just… well, sometimes I wonder what might have been if things had gone differently."
She watched as Daniel's expression turned thoughtful, but he didn't press further. Instead, he turned his attention back to their conversation, leaving Sophia to her thoughts.
How could she have ended up with him? Sophia thought bitterly. I should have been the one he looked at with such admiration. I should have been the one to secure a future with him. I could have made him happy—more so than Evelyn ever could.