"How could it possibly be Uncle Kane? Wasn't he explicitly excluded from the list?" J. C.'s voice sliced through the murmurs. His ability to flawlessly manage his facial expressions was his greatest survival skill in the cutthroat Davenport household. Despite the frantic, screaming panic exploding in his chest, he managed to mask it with a look of mild, polite surprise.
But when he looked at Aurore, a sliver of desperate, raw anxiety leaked through his carefully constructed facade. His eyes darted over her face, silently begging for an explanation, wanting to scream at her to ask if she had followed their plan.
Aurore didn't even glance at him. She treated him as if he were entirely invisible. Instead, she leaned forward slightly, her gaze bypassing her father and the Davenport elders, and tilted her head to look directly at the man who was calmly drinking water at the end of the table.
*Gulp.*
Kane Davenport swallowed a mouthful of ice water. His prominent Adam's apple bobbed once against the crisp collar of his shirt. He set the glass down with a soft clink.
Aurore mirrored the room's feigned confusion, her voice perfectly pitched to sound bewildered. "How did Uncle Kane's name get in there?"
The Davenport matriarch frowned deeply, looking at her youngest son. "Kane, what is the meaning of this?"
Kane's calm, fathomless dark gray eyes swept over everyone at the table. His gaze was heavy, carrying an invisible, crushing pressure. It paused for a fraction of a second on Aurore's face before moving away.
"The pens provided by the restaurant were of poor quality," Kane said, his voice a low, magnetic baritone that commanded instant, absolute respect. "Given the paramount importance of this marriage contract, I used my own name to test the ink flow first. The staff responsible for preparing the balls must have been unaware of the exclusion criteria and accidentally included the test slip."
Having Kane write the names had been a unanimous decision by both families. Kane was known throughout the city for his absolute, unbending integrity. His bespoke shirts were always buttoned to the very top, his ties perfectly knotted. He was respectful to his elders, strictly impartial to his juniors, and in the boardroom, he was a ruthless, emotionless machine. He was the only person everyone trusted to handle the lots without bias.
*Screech.*
A chair scraped violently against the polished hardwood floor. J. C. stood up abruptly, unable to maintain his composure any longer.
He walked swiftly over to the servant holding the box and reached inside. He pulled out the remaining three silver balls and cracked them open one by one, his hands trembling slightly.
Julian. Zachary. J. C.
He laid the slips out on the table. Compared to Kane's slip, the ink on their names was smooth and flawless. The slip with Kane's name indeed showed a slight, jagged break in the ink, perfectly corroborating his story about testing the pen.
J. C. refused to give up. He looked at Arthur Henson, his eyes wide with forced concern. "Arthur, sir? The age limit..." he prompted, desperately reminding Arthur of his own rules.
Arthur looked at his daughter, his expression torn. Aurore noticed Kane taking another slow sip of water, completely unbothered by the chaos he had inadvertently caused. She turned her attention back to her father.
"Aurore, what do you say?" Arthur asked, his voice heavy with responsibility.
The method of drawing lots had been a casual, romanticized suggestion Aurore made when she was sixteen. Her parents had taken it to heart, and because they had remembered it for so long, it carried immense, almost sacred weight. In her past life, this very tradition had been maliciously exploited to send her to her death.
"Aurore, do you want to draw again?" J. C. asked, staring at her intensely, his voice dropping to a softer, more intimate register.
Hearing that familiar, manipulative tone sent a violent shudder of revulsion through her. She masked her disgust behind a serene expression, her mind racing. J. C. wasn't worried she would refuse a redraw; he was arrogantly confident he owned her heart. He was only terrified that a redraw would involve a different servant, reducing his guaranteed victory to a mere one-in-three chance.
Aurore looked at her father, her green eyes clear and resolute. "Mom always used to say that when it comes to marriage, the will of heaven is absolute."
"Yes," Arthur said, his voice turning thick with emotion at the mention of his late wife. "Your mother was right. Since Kane's name ended up in the box by a twist of fate, it means there is a destined connection."
Arthur turned to the Davenport elders. "Cornelius, Madam, what do you think?"
Even though Kane controlled the vast Davenport Empire, the family's internal matters were still overseen by the elders. And secretly, they had always desperately wanted their youngest son to marry, only restricted by Arthur's strict age limit.
"Of course! It's perfectly fine! A wonderful match!" the elders agreed enthusiastically, their faces lighting up with genuine joy.
Aurore quietly let out a long breath of relief.
Marrying Kane was the absolute best outcome. In her past life, Julian and Zachary eventually married other women. But Kane? He remained single well into his forties. No scandals, no rumors, no messy entanglements. He was entirely devoted to his business empire, traveling constantly, barely returning to the estate once a year.
She had heard persistent whispers that Kane had a deeply hidden a first love he couldn't forget. Since he never married her, she was likely either dead or married to someone else. They would be the perfect, non-interfering roommates.
Aurore pressed her lips together, then looked up, meeting Kane's deep, storm-tossed gaze once more.
This time, there was a distinct ripple of emotion in the man's gray eyes. Was he reluctant? Annoyed? Aurore thought to herself that she would find a quiet time to have an open, honest talk with him.
