"Household registration transfer and lastname change, correct?"
"Yes."
"What name would you like to change to?"
"Lennox… Brittany Lennox."
From this moment on, she severed every last tie to Weston.
Even if she vanished without a word, he had no right to ask why.
Five days stretched on like an eternity, each second heavier, more suffocating than the past eighteen years combined.
Theresa made no effort to hide her malice, her every move laced with smug cruelty. Yet no matter what Brittany said, Weston only ever saw one truth: she was the troublemaker.
Then, on the fourth morning, Theresa suddenly beamed with delight, bringing "good news."
"Weston, I told my adoptive parents about our wedding. They want to return to the country to see us."
"Really?"
Weston’s response was gentle, indulgent. He smiled and reached out, wiping a trace of oil from the corner of Theresa’s lips.
"I won’t let them down."
Theresa had powerful, influential adoptive parents. Brittany had known all along that Weston valued that power more than anything.
And she… she had nothing.
Lowering her gaze, Brittany faded into the background, playing the part of air.
Over the past few days, the villa had been flooded with wedding deliveries, delicate boxes of wedding confections, fresh bouquets filling the air with their fragrance, and even invitations personally penned by Weston.
Joy filled every corner of the house. Yet none of it belonged to Brittany.
"Brittany? Brittany, are you even listening?"
"Huh?"
Snapped from her thoughts, Brittany turned, meeting Theresa’s amused gaze and Weston’s displeased frown.
"Theresa called you so many times. Didn’t you hear her?" Weston’s voice was cold. "I thought sending you to St. Darius Psychiatric Hospital would at least teach you some basic manners."
Brittany’s fingers curled slightly, but before she could answer, Theresa had already slid her arm through Weston’s, her voice dripping with laughter.
"Why so impatient? Brittany’s probably not used to seeing you so affectionate with someone else. She’s just a little jealous, aren’t you, Brittany?"
Brittany silently picked up a napkin, dabbing at the corner of her mouth. When she lifted her gaze again, her expression was flawless.
"I was just lost in thought. What is it, sister-in-law?"
Theresa let out a soft, delighted laugh, covering her lips as if suppressing a secret.
"Brittany has grown up. Your brother and I were thinking of taking you to tomorrow’s charity auction. I once showed your picture to the young master of Blackwood International, and he’s been dying to meet you."
A crisp "clack" echoed through the room.
Brittany’s spoon and fork had slipped from her fingers, hitting the floor with a sharp finality.
Russell Quinn.
Blackwood International’s young master is a name synonymous with scandal. A man known for indulgence, with a reputation that reeked of excess and recklessness.
Brittany froze, searching Weston’s eyes, hoping, praying, to find even a hint of amusement, a sign that this was some cruel joke.
But he had already looked away. Indifferent. Detached.
"Brother… do you want me to marry for an alliance?"
Of course, he did.
Her feelings disgusted him, a thorn lodged in his throat. He wanted her gone, far away, out of sight, out of mind. Even if it meant throwing her into the arms of a man she had never met.
After all, the family had raised her. It was only right for her to repay them.
Weston’s expression remained unreadable, but for a fleeting moment, his gaze softened.
"Your brother is settling down. You should have a home of your own, too. Besides, this is just an introduction. If you don’t like him, we can take our time choosing."
Brittany understood.
This wasn’t about her happiness. He just wanted her gone.
"Alright," she said, voice light, indifferent. "Since my brother chose him, there’s no harm in meeting him."
Setting down her utensils, she rose from the table. "I’m full. You two enjoy your meal."
And just like that, she left the dining room.
Obedient. Sensible. Without protest.
Gone was the temper, the resistance. Even when reprimanded, she had no complaints.
She had finally learned her place.
