Chapter 5

Nathaniel tilted his head slightly, his sharp gaze narrowing on the small balcony connected to the empty attic. After a brief pause, he murmured a command, "Bring the men inside for now."

Lucas blinked in surprise but didn't dare question his boss. With a quick wave of his hand, he signaled the waiting entourage.

"Everyone, follow me."

The Grayson wedding procession had been stalled at the front gate of the Whitmore villa, where bridesmaids playfully demanded gifts, creating a boisterous scene.

No one noticed the groom slipping away to the back of the estate.

There, a girl strolled casually, humming the Wedding March as if she were invisible.

She barely took three steps before a strong hand seized the back of her neck, lifting her clean off the ground. Her legs dangled helplessly, like a rabbit caught in a snare.

"Did you really think you could escape?" His voice was deep, smooth as aged whiskey, yet edged with ice.

Evelyn didn’t need to see his face to know—it was Nathaniel.

She hadn’t expected him to recognize her from that brief glimpse earlier. Still, she had prepared for this.

Twisting her head to face him, she deliberately lisped, "M-M-Mister? Who are you? Why are you grabbing me?"

Nathaniel recoiled slightly when he saw her face, releasing her as if burned.

The woman before him was a grotesque sight—thick unibrow, swollen lips smeared with garish lipstick, and a face dotted with fake moles. Her eyeshadow looked like a rainbow explosion.

Evelyn smirked inwardly at his horrified expression.

Playing dumb, she stammered, "Mister, you're getting m-married, right? You're at the w-wrong place! The bride’s waiting at the f-f-front!"

Nathaniel’s lips curled into a cold smile. "Is that so? Then why are you wearing the Grayson family’s engagement ring?"

He snatched her hand, holding it up to reveal the diamond ring stubbornly clinging to her finger.

Evelyn cursed inwardly.

She had tried to remove it, but the damn thing wouldn’t budge, no matter how much soap she used.

Nathaniel’s dark eyes gleamed with amusement. "Don’t bother. The ring’s made of titanium alloy mixed with a proprietary blend. It won’t come off without a specific essential oil."

Evelyn gritted her teeth.

So that was his trick.

"Fine," she sighed. "Let’s be honest. You don’t actually want to marry me—you just need a wife in name for some reason. Am I wrong?"

Nathaniel didn’t answer, but his silence confirmed her guess.

Evelyn grinned. "Great! Then my sister Cassandra would love to marry you. She’s prettier, curvier—perfect for your needs!"

Nathaniel studied her, intrigued.

Most women threw themselves at him. Yet here she was, practically shoving him toward another woman.

Interesting.

His lips twitched. "I only marry the woman wearing my ring."

Evelyn scowled. "Easy fix. Get me that oil, I’ll take it off, and you can give it to Cassandra!"

"I don’t have any."

"Then buy some!"

"Discontinued. Can’t be bought."

Evelyn’s eye twitched.

With a sudden gasp, she pointed behind him. "Mister, look! A flying pig!"

Nathaniel didn’t even blink.

Pathetic attempt.

The next second, Evelyn found herself hoisted off the ground again, kicking uselessly as Nathaniel carried her away like an unruly kitten.

Back at the villa, Lucas had just ushered the groomsmen inside when his phone buzzed. Nathaniel’s name flashed on the screen.

Answering swiftly, he nodded before turning to the men. "Change of plans. We’re leaving."

Victoria, smug just moments ago, paled. "What? But the bride’s still inside!"

Lucas gave her a frosty look. "There’s been a misunderstanding. Mr. Grayson’s bride isn’t named Cassandra."

With that, he strode past her, the entourage following.

Victoria stood frozen, her face ashen.

Misunderstanding?

The guests erupted into whispers.

Gregory, who had been basking in praise earlier, now burned with humiliation. He rounded on Victoria. "What the hell is this? You swore Nathaniel was marrying Cassandra!"

Victoria stammered, "But—the Graysons delivered the betrothal gifts to us! You saw it!"

Gregory slapped her. "You’ve made us a laughingstock!"

Cassandra, still waiting in her wedding dress, stormed out. "Dad! Mom! Where’s Nathaniel? Where’s my groom?"

Victoria clutched her stinging cheek. "He—he left with the real bride."

Cassandra’s face drained of color. "What? That’s impossible! He was supposed to marry me!"

The relatives, long tired of their arrogance, sneered.

"Face it, Cassandra. A man like Nathaniel Grayson would never marry a scandal-ridden actress like you."

"Honestly, we all wondered how you landed him. Now we know—it was a mistake!"

Cassandra fled to her room, humiliation burning her cheeks.

One question tormented her: Who did Nathaniel take instead?

There couldn’t possibly be another Whitmore nearby… right?