Suddenly, the living room door was flung open with a bang, startling everyone inside. Instinctively, they turned toward the source of the noise.
A girl, dressed all in white and covered in blood, stumbled into the room. She seemed equally startled to see so many people gathered there. Without a word, she turned abruptly, intending to leave before anyone could react.
"How dare you! You see there are guests in the house, and you don't even greet them before walking out?" William S. Lancaster's angry voice rang out.
The slender figure paused momentarily, but she didn't turn back, clearly intending to leave. Then, another cold voice stopped her in her tracks.
"And this is...?"
Even as rebellious and strange as she was, she knew the voice belonged to one of the guests. Reluctantly, she halted and slowly turned around.
"Well, well, what's this? Covered in blood—have you killed someone or what?" Doreen Lancaster's harsh, sarcastic voice pierced through the silent living room.
"Shut up!" William S. Lancaster barked at her. How much more embarrassment could they suffer? He shot an angry glance at the girl by the door, suppressing his temper, before turning to Albert Wilson with a forced smile.
"Albert, this is my youngest daughter, Cynthia. She's still a student, so we didn't think it appropriate to introduce her to the Vice President."
"Oh—?" Albert Wilson remained in his relaxed position, lazily dragging out his response upon hearing William's introduction. His eyes narrowed as he studied the disheveled girl who had barged into the room, a glint of sharpness flickering in his dark gaze, like a hunter sizing up his prey.
She wore a long, snow-white dress that, at first glance, made her look like a delicate, ethereal angel. However, the dress was stained with large patches of blood, blooming like eerie, vibrant flowers.
With her head bowed, she stood there, her long black hair cascading over her shoulders, concealing most of her face. Compared to the other three Lancaster daughters, she appeared plain, perhaps even docile and quiet.
In truth, his desire to marry one of the Lancaster daughters was merely to humiliate the Lancaster family. He selfishly hoped that the pawn he chose would be one who wouldn't fight back, cry, or cause trouble.
So, the hand he had originally pointed at Doreen Lancaster gracefully shifted toward her.
"Miss Lancaster..."
His voice wasn't deep or particularly captivating; it was cool and indifferent, yet carried an unmistakable chill.
"I think your youngest daughter suits my taste quite well. How about... her?"
"What?!"
The room erupted in shock, gasps filling the air. Doreen Lancaster shrieked and jumped off the sofa, her beautiful face contorted with disbelief and frustration.
Meanwhile, Albert Wilson noticed the girl by the door, who had lifted her head like a frightened rabbit, her eyes wide with anxiety as she looked in his direction. Only then did he notice her clear, shimmering eyes, which added a touch of color to her otherwise plain face.
Ignoring the gasps of astonishment around him, he elegantly rose from his seat and took deliberate steps toward her, moving with the quiet grace of a predator closing in on its prey.
Cynthia stared at the man in front of her, utterly bewildered as he approached step by step. The sunlight that had been streaming through the window above her head was suddenly blocked by his looming shadow, casting an icy chill over the room. It was as if a freezing wind had swept in from all directions, despite the warm spring air outside.
She had to admit, it was a face that could only be described as strikingly handsome, like it had been sculpted to perfection. The slight upward curve of his lips betrayed an air of dominance, a mixture of arrogance and allure, as cold and sharp as ice.
But what did this man intend to do? As he drew closer, even Cynthia, who always prided herself on being calm and rational, felt a stir of unease rise within her. She wouldn't have returned here today if she hadn't been forced to.
She had assumed that everyone would be out working at this hour, that the house would be empty. Yet, to her surprise, not only was the house full of people, but the very person she least wanted to see was also present. Clearly, something significant was happening. A bitter smile tugged at the corners of her lips.
By the time she snapped back to reality, the dangerous man was already standing directly in front of her. She looked up, her eyes meeting his icy expression. His lips curved faintly as he spoke, his voice low and indifferent:
"Do you love me?"
His arrogant question made Cynthia frown slightly. She took a deep breath, suppressing the disgust rising within her, and shot him an exaggerated eye roll, accompanied by two icy words:
"Crazy!"
After saying this, she couldn't help but silently marvel at the fairness of the universe. God had indeed given him an exceptional face, but clearly hadn't bestowed him with a functioning brain. Asking a woman out of the blue if she loved him—what else could it be but madness?
However, instead of getting offended, Albert Wilson's eyes curved with satisfaction, as if pleased by her cold reaction. No woman had ever dared to call him that to his face before. But the more she reacted this way, the more it confirmed in his mind that she wouldn't become clingy or difficult if things didn't work out. Leaving her behind someday would be a breeze.
His smile deepened, his eyes crinkling with amusement as he posed another question:
"Then… would you marry me?"
He could clearly see a flicker of anger ignite in her eyes. Just as he was anticipating her reaction, she suddenly smiled—a dazzling smile, as brilliant as fireworks exploding in the night sky.
But then, her alluring gaze drifted past him, landing on something behind him. He heard her cool, melodic voice say:
"Brother-in-law, what do you think… should I marry him?"
Cynthia admitted to herself that his previous question had nearly driven her to the brink of fury. But when her angry gaze caught the fleeting pain in the otherwise calm and unruffled eyes of the man opposite her, a wave of satisfaction, born from a desire for revenge, surged through her.
So she changed her mind about walking away. Instead, she gave that enchanting, radiant smile and posed her teasing question.
Brother-in-law? Albert Wilson's eyes narrowed dangerously. The "brother-in-law" she referred to was Vincent, husband of Lancaster's second daughter, Grace. Sharp as ever, Wilson could easily detect the implications in her words.
Yet Cynthia didn't notice his displeasure. Her smile grew even sweeter, even more captivating.
"Brother-in-law, your silence—is that an agreement?"
Behind Albert Wilson, the room had fallen into an oppressive, suffocating silence. Vincent remained utterly unresponsive, but Cynthia continued her one-sided conversation as if he weren't there.
"Fine! Then I'll marry him!"
Before Albert Wilson had time to process what was happening, Cynthia suddenly pulled his head down and, with trembling lips, kissed him. Yet, even as her lips met his, her gaze remained locked on something—or someone—behind him, never truly settling on him.
Though her eyes and smile appeared playful, he was close enough to see the truth. Deep within her dark eyes, there was no trace of joy—only thick layers of mockery.
Never before had a woman kissed him while clearly thinking about another man. Not only would no one dare, but typically, his sheer magnetism overshadowed any other. Any man in his presence would simply fade into the background. But this woman in front of him—she was the exception.
A flicker of irritation stirred in him. His pupils contracted sharply as he realized the depth of her indifference. In one swift motion, he yanked her body roughly against his chest, his large hands gripping her tightly. Lowering his head, he shifted from passive to aggressive, kissing her with fierce intensity, determined to reclaim control from this woman who dared to use him to get back at someone else.
He was no one's pawn. If she thought she could manipulate him to wound another man, she was gravely mistaken.