A flicker of recognition crossed Dylan's face, as if he was suddenly yanked back to the present. He remembered that year, when the heir of another family had made a move on me.

In a drunken panic, he had stolen the family signet ring in the middle of the night and run to my house. He knelt on the floor, his eyes red, and begged me to wear the heirloom as a promise of his loyalty.

Now, he tugged at his tie, took a deep breath, and forced a smile. "I overreacted. I... I don't take back things I've given. You can keep it."

"It's fine. I'll give it back. I'm taking it off now," I said calmly. "It'll be quick, so it won't delay your alliance."

Before anyone could react, I twisted the ring off my finger and prepared to hand it to him.

As I walked toward him, the door swung open, and a gust of cold wind swept through the room.

"Welcome—" Dylan began, then froze when he saw the ring in my palm. "What are you doing?"

The disbelief on his face was plain as day. He clearly never expected me to call his bluff, much less at this exact moment.

As I held out the ring, he finally took it, leaning in close to hiss a warning, "Seraphina, we've always been best friends. Don't you dare ruin this for me today. Genevieve is sensitive. Don't do anything that might upset her."

I didn't bother to answer. So, Genevieve was the sensitive fiancée, and I was just a disposable pawn?

I stared at the man I had once loved, the chill in my chest threatening to turn to ice.

Ten minutes later, Genevieve and her family arrived at the Marcone estate.

The elders quickly fell into a dance of superficial pleasantries, the atmosphere exceptionally "harmonious." Amidst the polite chatter, they skillfully showcased the Marcone family's power and sincerity to the Valentis.

Meanwhile, Dylan sat beside Genevieve, doting on her every move. He was almost thirty, yet he acted like a nervous teenager.

I felt completely out of place and began looking for a way to slip out quietly.

But then Genevieve turned to me, smiling gently. "So, you're Seraphina. I've heard so much about you. You're the star of your generation in the family, aren't you?"

Caught off guard, I waved a dismissive hand. "Oh, that's very kind of you, but I think they're just being generous."

I thought the topic would end there, but she pressed on. "Oh, don't say that. I remember your performance at the last shooting competition. The next day, the young men from every family wanting to send you gifts nearly broke down the Rossi family's door!"

Before I could respond, she playfully tugged on Dylan's arm. "You two grew up together, right? I always thought you'd end up together. Everyone did."

All eyes turned to me.

Despite her gentle tone, her words carried a sharp edge that made my skin crawl.

"Her?" Dylan chuckled softly, handing Genevieve a glass of champagne. "To you, maybe she's a lady. To me? She's one of the guys."

He shrugged. "She's just my friend."

He chuckled again, as if recalling a fond, funny memory. "You should have seen her as a kid. Crying with snot and tears everywhere. If I hadn't wiped her face, it would've dripped into her mouth."

"And when she was fifteen, on her first mission, she almost got shot and started talking nonsense. She was waving her knife around like a lunatic—"

"I should go," I said sharply, cutting him off before he could strip away the last of my dignity.

I turned to the heads of the families, forcing a fragile smile. "Don Lorenzo, Donna Isabella, everyone... please enjoy the rest of your evening."

Genevieve glanced at Dylan awkwardly and asked softly, "Did I say something wrong? I hope I didn't upset her."

Dylan glared at me, as if I was the one disrupting the harmony.

Before he could speak, I said flatly, "I have a date tonight. I don't want to be late."