I enunciated each syllable, letting the name land like a blade. "Morton Gilbert."
John froze. Anger flashed across his face, but three seconds later he burst out laughing.
"Ivy, you actually dragged my uncle into this little performance just to get under my skin? You really went all out."
His expression shifted, twisting into a sneer.
"The line of women dying to marry my uncle stretches from the Capital all the way to the States. Everyone knows he has zero interest in women. Business is the only thing that gets his blood pumping. What makes you think he'd ever look twice at someone like you? A woman with no charm, no appeal, nothing but cheap tricks?"
The words had barely left his mouth when Morton reached out, pulled me firmly into his arms, and pressed a gentle kiss to my forehead.
"Who said my eyes are only on business? That I have no interest in women?"
His voice dropped, low and absolute.
"My eyes have only ever been on Ivy. From the moment she was ten years old and came running toward me through the snow, I knew. She would be the only woman in my life."
He turned his gaze on John, and his tone went cold.
"John, if it weren't for the fact that I'm ten years older than her, do you really think you'd have had a chance at this marriage alliance? So let me thank you now, for handing her over to me."
Dead silence.
The reporters who'd been about to leave suddenly had fire in their eyes. Camera flashes erupted in a frenzy, every lens aimed squarely at John.
John's face drained of color. His hand shook as he pointed at me.
"You... you..."
Morton's gaze dropped to that trembling finger.
"John. Ivy is now your aunt by marriage. If you continue to disrespect your elders, I'll make sure you lose that finger."
John flinched and yanked his hand back, but his eyes stayed locked on the arm Morton had wrapped around my waist.
As if staking his claim, Morton tightened his hold on me. Then his voice turned low and dangerous.
"Hal Barnes, find out who deliberately scattered broken glass to injure my wife. Immediately."
His gaze slid past John to Celeste, who stood half-hidden behind him.
"When you find them, I don't care what it takes. Make them pay. My wife deserves that much."
Celeste visibly shuddered and shrank behind a pillar, ducking out of sight.
Morton let out a cold scoff, swept me up into his arms, and strode away.
Back at the villa, he knelt beside me, carefully tending to my wounds with a tenderness that didn't match the ruthlessness he'd just displayed.
Meanwhile, I pulled out my phone and sent a message to Old Mr. Gilbert overseas. Along with it, I attached the full, unedited video of my humiliation, including a clear shot of Celeste's swollen pregnant belly.
Grandfather, I've called off the engagement with John. I won't be the Gilbert family's young wife anymore. But I'll still honor my promise to protect the family's peace. I only have one condition: the marriage alliance transfers to Morton.
Old Mr. Gilbert called me back immediately. His voice trembled with rage.
After a long tirade cursing John's name, he finally let out a heavy sigh. "Ivy, the truth is, I've known about Morton's feelings for you for a long time. He even came to me and asked for my blessing."
He paused. "But he's ten years older than you, and he carries the stigma of being born out of wedlock. Would you feel you're settling?"
I glanced over at Morton, who sat beside me with his ears practically perked, tension written across every line of his body. I spoke clearly and deliberately.
"Grandfather, age and status are secondary. Character and sincerity are what matter. I trust Morton."
Three seconds of silence on the other end. Then Old Mr. Gilbert broke into a hearty laugh.
"Ivy, this old man has been a fool. You're absolutely right. Knowing Morton's heart is true, I can rest easy. I'm booking a flight home right now. I'll officiate the engagement myself."
"Good. Three days from now, Morton and I will be engaged. You'll preside over the ceremony."
I hung up. Beside me, a quiet, deeply satisfied smile spread across Morton's face.
Not far away, back at the Gilbert estate, Celeste was still putting on a show of comforting John, her voice dripping with false sympathy. What she didn't realize was that the dark mark between her brows had grown so dense it was nearly opaque.
I looked down at the prayer bead still resting in my palm. It was growing hot, almost burning. The corner of my lips curved into a cold, knowing smile.
