Chapter 2

In the hall, Benedict wore that deep red velvet suit, a brooch shimmering under the lights like a carefully cultivated flower waiting to be admired. He held Rowan's arm, whispering something to her. Rowan listened, her expression much softer than when she spoke to me.

Guests formed a circle, voices low but unable to hide their excitement.

"I always heard the two families were betrothed, something happened back then... Looking at them now, they're a perfect match."

"Matriarch Sinclair is never this close to anyone in public. Seeing this tonight, there must be a big move coming."

"From now on, we must establish good relations with young master Benedict first."

My father, Emmett, stood proudly at the edge of the crowd, basking in the reflected glory. My mother, Josephine, stood beside him, a smile reaching the corners of her eyes—an expression I had never seen her wear when looking at me. Before, they would tell anyone who'd listen that their son was the matriarch's husband, until Rowan sent word that if anyone used that for personal gain again, the Hartley family's few shipping routes wouldn't be spared. After that, my parents looked at me as if I were a debtor they resented, venomous with nowhere to vent.

I looked away, confirming the document's position at the bottom of my bag once more. Picking up my suitcase, I planned to slip out through the side door near the stairs during the commotion. Unfortunately, as soon as my foot touched the bottom step, I saw Rowan walking this way. Her suit was immaculate, her shirt perfectly straight, but her brow was furrowed—an expression reserved only for me. Her gaze lingered on the suitcase in my hand for two seconds. She stepped forward directly, yanking the suitcase away, her voice low, laced with a suppressed impatience. "What act are you pulling? It's your brother's birthday today, and you're staging a dramatic exit?"

"Rowan—" Benedict came over from the side, gently placing a hand on her arm, looking up, his tone that practiced, perfectly measured gentleness. "Don't be so harsh on him. Today is also Glen's birthday, but we're all busy with my party, so it's natural he's upset. Be understanding." He turned to me, eyes glistening with unshed tears, extending a hand. "Brother, come on, we can celebrate together today."

His fingers closed around my wrist, pulling me forward, his nails simultaneously digging into my skin without a sound.

Pain shot up from my wrist. I instinctively shook my hand off.

It was just shaking him off, but he stumbled back two steps, his heel catching, and with an "oh!" fell to the floor. His lips began to tremble, his eyes instantly reddening, his voice dropping low, as if greatly wronged. "Brother... why did you push me..."

The voices in the hall first fell silent, then surged towards us.

I didn't even have time to speak before Rowan reacted. She pushed me aside with great force.

The back of my head slammed hard against the edge of the step. My bones vibrated with a dull thud. My vision went white for a moment, a ringing exploded in my ears.

Rowan was already bending down to help Benedict up, saying something in a low voice. Then she looked up, her eyes sweeping over my face, her tone icy. "Until the doctor confirms Benedict is alright, you are not to leave!"

She shielded him as they walked into the crowd, her back not even pausing.

I sat on the steps, not moving.

The back of my head felt hot. I reached to touch it; my fingertips came away sticky with blood.

"Can someone take me to the hospital?" I looked around. Every pair of eyes I met quickly looked away, as if burned.

There was a slight stir in the crowd. A man in a gray suit took half a step towards me. The person beside him immediately grabbed his arm, voice low but clear. "Don't get involved. If you dare oppose the matriarch, you can see yourself on the pier tomorrow morning if you want." That hand withdrew. No one moved again.

The surroundings resumed their flow. Low voices drifted over.

"The Hartley family's eldest young master, never been favored..."

"He brought it on himself, what's it to us..."

I smiled bitterly, shaking my head. Leaning against the wall, I moved to a corner and picked up the phone from the floor. The screen was a spiderweb of cracks, only a sliver of light in the center.

A headache began pressing behind my eyes. Darkness crept in from the edges of my vision. I stared at that sliver of light, thinking of the nearest hospital, wondering if the old injury from my past life might be triggered, thinking of the signed document at the bottom of my bag...

Footsteps approached.

I strained to look up, only managing to see a silhouette backlit, tall, imposing, unlike any face I recognized in this banquet hall. Long hair tied back, face unclear in the shadowy light, but the aura was overwhelming.

Then, everything went black.

When I opened my eyes again, the ceiling above was white, the smell of disinfectant strong.

A strange woman sat in the chair. She noticed me stir and raised her eyes. "Awake." Her tone was flat, as if stating an ordinary fact.

"Lachlan Rhodes." She spoke. "I arrived late to the party tonight, was dealing with some family matters... If I had arrived earlier, perhaps it wouldn't have come to this." As she said this, a faint frown appeared between her brows. It didn't seem like politeness, more like genuine regret.

She paused. "You sustained an impact. I was present during the doctor's examination. A mild concussion. Also... you seem to have an old ailment. The impact triggered some discomfort. You need rest and observation."

I froze for a second. The old injury from trading my life. Then I looked up at her. "About this—"

Before I could finish, the hospital room door was violently shoved open, the force making the frame tremble.

Rowan entered, still wearing her jacket, her face grim. Her eyes swept between Lachlan and me, then fixed.

"I said you are not to leave anywhere until Benedict's safety is confirmed." Her voice was low, each word seeming to grind out from deep in her throat. "Now I understand—you were in such a hurry to escape, waiting to throw yourself into another woman's arms." Lachlan didn't rise, just slowly turned her face, a hint of coldness in her voice. "Ms. Sinclair, watch your tone. Mr. Hartley was injured, so I brought him to the hospital."

Rowan ignored her completely, strode directly to the bed, grabbed my wrist, and yanked me up. The pain in the back of my head instantly shot down my neck. I gritted my teeth, forcing myself not to make a sound.

She leaned down, her voice controlled to the point of being icy. "You throwing a tantrum, running away from home, is one thing, but you caused Benedict to get into a car accident."

I stood there frozen, staring at her in disbelief. "What?"