Chapter 503:
Vivien’s presence was understandable—she thrived on gatherings like this. And Norah’s attendance made sense, given the nature of the event, which was designed to bring single men and women together. But Trent? He was not the kind to attend such functions, no matter how much his family pestered him about marriage.
“I heard you were coming,” Trent said, adjusting his glasses with casual grace. “So I made a point of requesting an invitation.”
Gasps rippled through the crowd.
“Mr. Seymour?”
“This event has certainly drawn a lively crowd today.”
“Mr. Seymour seems rather familiar with Ms. Briggs, doesn’t he? Do they have a close relationship in private?”
“He even said he came specifically because she would be here. What do you make of that?”
The atmosphere buzzed with speculation.
Though many present came from esteemed families, few could match Trent’s pedigree.
He was a name whispered with admiration, the kind of man many dreamed of marrying—but he had never shown the slightest interest in anyone. Until now.
Freya, who had been bearing the weight of unwanted attention, suddenly felt the pressure lift. With Trent by her side, she no longer had to navigate this crowd alone.
True to form, Trent guided her to a quiet corner where she could finally breathe.
Anyone who dared approach to start a conversation was gently, yet firmly, turned away.
To Vivien, this sight was a dagger to the heart.
Why was Freya always the one who drew all the light? Why was even Trent, the ever-elusive gentleman, kind to her?
Those who had once gathered around Vivien now flocked to Freya, leaving her standing on the outside, watching the warmth she craved slip further away.
Jealousy took root and spread through her, choking reason like ivy on stone.
Her mind spiraled—Freya had taken everything: her job, her stepfather’s favor, her connections.
But Freya, blissfully unaware of Vivien’s escalating thoughts, remained calm.
If Vivien had been an ordinary woman—honest and without scheming—Freya might’ve extended a hand in goodwill.
But from the first moment they met, something about Vivien had rubbed her the wrong way.
“Kristian will be here too,” Trent said suddenly.
Freya frowned, puzzled. It wasn’t panic in her eyes—just pure bewilderment.
“Damon is bringing him,” Trent explained, his tone still even. “They should arrive any minute now.”
Outside, in a sleek black car, Kristian sat quietly, his expression unreadable as he glanced at Damon.
“I’ll stay here,” he said curtly. “Just let me know when it’s over.”
“You’re coming in with me,” Damon said, unwavering as he tugged at Kristian’s arm.
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