Chapter 489

At first, Cassandra was utterly baffled by Adrienne's words.

"What do you suggest I do?" Cassandra demanded. A flicker of defiance ignited within her, spreading like wildfire through her veins.

The confusion that had clouded her mind moments ago was dissipating.

"Cassandra, darling, you're radiant. The entire room holds its breath when you enter. You need to make him see you," Adrienne murmured, leaning so close her lips nearly brushed Cassandra's ear. Then, just as suddenly, she pulled back with a sharp inhale. "But—"

"But what?" Cassandra's pulse stuttered at the ominous pause.

"It's too late for that now!" Adrienne's voice turned icy. "You've poured everything into him, and he's grown indifferent. No matter what you do, you can't rewrite the narrative he's built about you in his mind. And let's not forget—you're not his only option anymore. Time isn't on your side. This strategy won't work."

With that, Adrienne released her and glided to the vanity, meticulously smoothing cream over her flawless hands. Adrienne's skincare ritual was legendary—her complexion luminous, her skin like satin.

Though Cassandra possessed striking beauty, Adrienne's ethereal glow outshone her in ways that stung.

Watching Adrienne's serene focus as she massaged the cream into her skin, Cassandra's patience frayed. "What am I supposed to do, then? You said marriage was reversible—that an engagement meant nothing! How is it suddenly too late?"

Adrienne turned, exhaling dramatically. "There is another way. But I doubt you'd have the spine for it."

"Spine? Who says I don't?" Cassandra's voice trembled with barely restrained fury. Nothing would stand between her and Alexander—not now, not ever.

"Oh?" Adrienne arched a brow, amusement dancing in her eyes. "Then why are you hesitating? Do you even grasp who Alexander is? The Kensington heir doesn't just marry—it's a political spectacle. Family approval isn't optional; it's mandatory."

For dynasties like theirs, matrimony was a calculated alliance, a power play. If Cassandra could sway the elders, victory would be hers.

Cassandra had listened intently—until Adrienne's words registered as hopelessly naive. She shook her head, lips curling in disdain. "Adrienne, you don't understand him. Or the Kensingtons."

"Enlighten me," Adrienne challenged.

"Your plan might work for lesser families, but not for Alex." Cassandra's gaze drifted, lost in memory. "Alex is the Kensington dynasty. He clawed his way to the top—no one pulls his strings, not even the so-called elders. Their opinions? Meaningless. That's what makes him untouchable."

As she spoke, reverence colored every word. Adrienne watched, bewildered.

She'd met Alexander twice—his beauty icy, his presence impenetrable. Even her polished greetings had earned nothing but indifference.

The Prescotts were no strangers to power plays. Adrienne had grown up navigating the venomous undercurrents of elite society. She knew survival demanded ruthlessness.

Her uncle Alistair had ruled their family with an iron fist. Her father, Gregory, held wealth and titles, yet bowed to Alistair's authority. And Adrienne? No matter how brilliant, she'd always be second to Julian.