Chapter 67 The Socialite Tug-of-War
[
BONUS
Chapter
for reaching 100 GT! Thank you all! 🤍]
=== 🤍 ===
[EVE]
The pain in my side throbbed relentlessly as the crowd pressed in, their eager faces too close, their questions and greetings blending into a dizzying blur.
I could feel my control slipping, but I forced myself to smile through it all. Each guest, each potential investor, each partner—all of them needed to be on our side and not on Sullivan.
That was my deal.
But the gunshot wound was making it impossible to concentrate, and the relentless crowd wasn't helping.
Cold sweat trickled down my spine, and my hands began to shake—until I felt a strong, warm hand slip into mine.
I looked up and found myself staring into icy blue eyes.
Cole.
"You should be resting," he said, his voice calm but firm, his expression as unreadable as ever—just like the stoic face I used to like.
Panic spiked through me as I tried to pull my hand away, but his grip tightened.
What was he doing?!
I couldn't exactly cause a scene, not with all these people watching.
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My heart raced, a cold chill of unease creeping over me, feeling his hand in mine.
As soon as Cole arrived, the guests instinctively stepped back, the oppressive closeness easing. His cold aura seemed to part the crowd like a glacier splitting the sea, and for a moment, I felt a twisted sense of relief.
But I wasn't sure whether to be thankful or even more concerned.
The murmurs began, hushed but unmistakable. Eyes flicked to our intertwined hands—hands I hadn't chosen to hold. The pressure of his grip was ironclad, and pulling away now would only draw more attention.
"I'm fine," I said softly, struggling to keep my voice steady, "Thank you for your concern, but if you could let go of my hand now, I'd like to take my seat."
Cole's eyes darkened, and his voice cut through the air, louder than I'd expected. "I'll take you to your seat."
The murmuring crowd grew louder, whispers spreading like wildfire as every eye in the room turned toward us. I could feel their gazes.
They were already forming their own conclusions, already talking about me and Cole—about the two of us, standing together, hands clasped like some unspoken declaration.
My stomach twisted, the pain in my side nearly forgotten as I tried to maintain composure. The last thing I needed was another rumor to fuel the chaos.
Yet Cole seemed oblivious to the tension, his grip unyielding, his posture unmoving, as if he had no intention of letting me go.
I barely registered Sophie's dagger-like glares as Victor smoothly stepped in and grabbed my other hand. His cool demeanor was a sharp contrast to the tension rising around us.
"If you don't mind, Cole Fay," Victor said, his tone calm but pointed, "I'll take Eve to her seat. After all, she's
my
date tonight."
What was this about a date?
I thought, confused for a second.
Victor shot a glance at Sophie, and continued, "And I believe your fiancée is waiting for you over there."
The crowd's murmurs grew louder, eyes darting back and forth between us.
But Cole didn't budge. His grip on my hand tightened, a muscle in his jaw ticking as he glared at Victor.
"Eve. Is. My. Fiancée," he declared.
Gasps rippled through the room, followed by the rapid-fire flashes of cameras.
Oh great,
I thought with a sinking feeling, this would definitely make tomorrow's headlines.
[
Socialite Tug-of-War:
Two Handsome Men Fight Over One Woman]
Just wonderful.
As much as some girls might've giggled with glee at being fought over by two men—two very
handsome
accomplished men, mind you—all I could feel was the persistent throb of pain in my side.
The gunshot wound was still fresh, and with every tug from Victor and Cole, I feared the stitches might rip open.
They were practically pulling me apart like some kind of prize! I didn't know what was worse—the throbbing in my side or the growing tension between them.
I cast a pleading glance at Sinclair, who was lounging across the room like this was the most entertaining spectacle he'd seen in years. He even looked like he was holding back a smirk, the old man clearly enjoying the show.
Really
? I screamed inwardly.
This isn't the time to be having fun at my expense, old man! HELP ME!
But he didn't move. Instead, he took a sip of his drink, thoroughly amused.
Victor gave another tug, and Cole yanked me back, my arms caught in the middle of this ridiculous showdown.
I could practically feel the gossip growing like wildfire around us, the crowd eagerly lapping up every second of this drama.
I sighed, smiling stiffly at the guests, pretending that everything was normal.
Yep, just your average night at a socialite party.
"Cole, what are you talking about?" Sophia cut in, stepping forward with a mix of confusion and indignation. "Your engagement is to the Rosette family. My daughter is your fiancée, not—" She flashed me a withering glare, her eyes full of scorn. "My
real
daughter, Cole, is Sophie." Explore new worlds at empire
Cole's frown deepened, and his gaze shifted coldly between them. "I don't recall ever agreeing to be engaged to a thief."
The word
thief
hung in the air like a sharp knife.
"Thief?"
Murmurs rippled through the crowd, all eyes turning to Sophie, whose face had gone deathly pale. The whispers grew louder, curious, shocked, eager for more scandal.
My own heart raced—I didn't know what he meant either, but accusing Sophie of being a thief was no small claim.
What had she stolen?
"I-I didn't—" Sophie stammered, visibly trembling.
Sullivan immediately stepped forward, shielding his daughter with a protective arm, trying to salvage whatever dignity she had left. "Cole, you may be a Fay," he growled, "but you would do well to watch your tongue. You're speaking about my daughter here."
Cole's brow arched, his voice dripping with icy disdain. "Before I do, maybe you should ask your
maid
where she got those jewels she's flaunting."