Chapter 59

Alexander's POV

I stood in the corner of the hallway, my gaze fixed on Scarlett as she conversed with Lillian.

They were standing in front of a massive abstract painting, the lighting perfectly outlining their silhouettes.

Hearing my question, Scarlett's expression showed no alarm, just a slight smile.

She said, "Miss Harber can call me whatever she likes."

I saw Lillian's eyes widen in surprise, clearly stunned by Scarlett's beauty. This wasn't unusual; almost everyone who met Scarlett was captivated by her appearance.

I instinctively stepped forward, ears perked.

Lillian asked, her voice carrying a hint of probing, "You look much younger than I imagined. Do you mind if I ask how old you are?"

Scarlett answered concisely, a polite smile playing at the corners of her mouth, "Twenty-four."

I smirked inwardly. Every expression of hers was meticulously calculated.

Scarlett's gaze lingered on Lillian's face for a moment, then she said, "You and George really look alike, especially the eyes and nose."

My gaze turned towards the distance, where George was walking in our direction.

I felt an inexplicable anger burning in my chest. George and Scarlett—what had they been doing alone in that room earlier? I strode over, inserting myself into their conversation.

I began directly, my voice colder than I had intended, "George, what were you and Scarlett doing in private earlier?"

George's face instantly turned pale, his eyes flickering, unable to meet mine.

Seeing his guilty reaction, the fury within me intensified, my fingers unconsciously tightening.

Lillian was clearly shocked as well, her gaze darting between George and Scarlett, desperately trying to make sense of the sudden tension.

Scarlett quickly spoke up, "Alexander, don't misunderstand. George is my boss; we were just debating some work matters."

I stared into her eyes, searching for any signs of deception, but her gaze remained steady, as if the situation couldn't be more normal.

A hint of appreciative smile involuntarily formed at the corner of my mouth. Her ability to control situations always both irritated and fascinated me.

Before we could respond, she gently tugged at the hem of her dress, naturally stepping back with the grace of a proud swan. She said in a tone both decisive and polite, "I should get back. Richard might be waiting for me."

As she passed by me, the faint scent of her perfume drifted to my nose. I felt her fingers lightly brush against my sleeve, and my hand made an empty grasp in the air.

In the banquet hall, the lights were bright, guests milling about. I leaned against the bar, watching Scarlett walk toward Clifford with her arm linked through Richard's.

Her posture was elegant, her manners impeccable, as if she had been custom-made for high society gatherings.

Clifford narrowed his eyes, examining Scarlett closely, "Young lady, I feel like I've seen you somewhere before." He turned to Richard, "Is this the woman you intend to marry?"

Richard's face softened in a way I rarely witnessed, "Yes, I plan to set the wedding date next month."

The drink in my hand seemed to turn bitter. Richard's gaze at Scarlett, that possessiveness, that self-righteous affection—it made me sick!

But Scarlett didn't seem to mind; she stood beside him, smiling, her expression perfectly balancing anticipation and shyness.

Richard added, his tone filled with certainty and admiration, "She'll make a perfect Mrs. Gray."

Lillian and George had somehow materialized beside me. Following my line of sight, Lillian commented softly, "Uncle Richard looks so good, even though he's almost fifty."

I didn't respond, just took a heavy sip of whiskey, feeling the burn and bitterness spread through my mouth.

Lillian continued, her tone holding obvious implications as she looked at me expectantly, "After Scarlett marries into the Gray family, she might get pregnant soon, don't you think?"

I set down my glass, giving George a cold stare, "The Harber family hasn't had any good news in quite some time."

This comment clearly made Lillian uncomfortable. She was about to say something when a servant approached and called them away.

I found a quiet corner, lying on the sofa with a magazine covering my face. In settings like this, I always felt suffocated—endless small talk, fake smiles, carefully designed traps.

My left leg was aching slightly, particularly noticeable in this oppressive environment.

My phone vibrated in my pocket. I took it out to see a message from Scarlett: "What's the bidding price for the project?" Followed by an emoji of someone eating heartily.

I couldn't help but smile. Scarlett always knew how to lower my guard.

I raised my head from behind the magazine and saw Scarlett watching me from across the room, her eyes gleaming dangerously in the light. Our gazes met, and she curved her lips slightly.

A complex mix of emotions churned within me—anger, desire, vigilance, and perhaps something else.

I made my decision, not replying to her message but instead hitting the "block" button. Let her deal with that after annoying me.

I still couldn't resist observing her reaction. I saw her take out her phone again, look down to type, then frown, obviously discovering she'd been blocked.

She looked up at me, surprise and anger evident in her eyes, but she quickly controlled her expression, donning that proper mask once more.

Good, Scarlett. The deal is off.

The party continued until 10 p.m., but Richard's card game stretched on until midnight.

I watched Scarlett standing beside him, smiling, though her eyes couldn't hide her exhaustion.

Richard occasionally looked up at her, his expression showing a hint of concern, yet he still kept her by his side.

Observing this hypocritical behavior, I laughed coldly inside, feeling nauseated to the point of almost vomiting.

Someone at the card table joked, "Richard, when are you holding the wedding? Scarlett is so young; you should have a child soon."

Hearing this, I almost laughed out loud. What a question to ask!

Richard merely smiled slightly without answering, but I caught a dark gleam in his eyes—the murderous intent I knew all too well.

The card game finally ended, and servants began guiding guests out. I had my driver bring the car to the entrance.

My fingers tapped lightly against my thigh as I absently listened to Lillian's chatter beside me, my mind continuously analyzing Richard's unusual behavior tonight.

His attentiveness toward Scarlett was too obvious, excessive even by fiancée standards.

Just then, I spotted Scarlett standing alone in the distance, looking somewhat lost.