Luke's POV

Oliver was sure I would give in, just like I had before.

He was so confident, in fact, that he poured himself a drink with ease, swirling the wine in his glass as if he were waiting for me to bow my head.

But instead, I rose slowly to my feet and straightened my suit jacket.

Then I looked Oliver square in the eye. "You are not welcome here. Are you going to walk out alone, or do you want me to have security escort you?"

The event hall fell utterly silent.

Every guest turned to watch, their eyes flicking nervously back and forth between the three of us.

Oliver's smug grin froze where it was. He had clearly never imagined I would humiliate him like this in front of everyone. Color drained from his face, then came back hot and red. His grip tightened around the wine glass until his knuckles went white.

"Luke!" Oliver yelled.

Before I could reply, Shannon grabbed my arm, her nails digging into my skin.

"Everyone is watching. What the hell are you doing?" she hissed. "Apologize to Oliver now!"

Her eyes burned with anger and disappointment, flaring with outrage as if I had crossed an unforgivable line, making me seem unreasonable and as if I was the one who ruined our engagement party.

Behind her, Oliver tilted his head. His face shifted into a perfect display of wounded pride and righteous hurt.

He even rubbed at his eyes, as if he had just endured some great injustice.

At that moment, I experienced exhaustion rooted in my bones.

Five years of compromise, forgiveness, and telling myself to let it go, that he was just a spoiled kid.

All of it rushed back now, sharp and impossible to ignore.

And it felt utterly ridiculous.

Slowly, I pried Shannon's hand off my arm.

She froze, staring at me as if she could not believe I would push her away.

"Shannon, do you remember?" I asked, meeting her eyes.

My voice was steady and deliberate as I continued, "Three months ago, I was lying in a hospital bed. The doctor said there was a chance I would lose my leg. That night, you told me Oliver was scared. That he knew he was wrong."

Her pupils tightened. She looked thrown, like she could not understand why I was bringing this up now.

"Do you know," I went on, my voice low but loud enough for the nearby tables to catch, "what went through my head in that moment?"

She parted her lips, but nothing came out.

So I answered for her. "I thought, if I really ended up disabled, would you still excuse him as being immature? Would it still just be another one of his childish mistakes?"

I let the silence hang.

My eyes drifted over Oliver's face, watching the color drain, then settled back on hers.

"Well," I said at last, my tone quiet but cutting, "now I know the answer."

Shannon's expression went rigid.

Then, in a single breath, Oliver changed faces like an actor shifting masks.

Suddenly, he was filled with remorse.

He stumbled forward a half step, his voice catching in a perfectly timed choke. "Luke, this is all my fault."

He raised his sleeve and wiped at tears that were not even there.

"I'm a bastard. I'm trash. All those things I did before, I was just being a dumb kid, acting out."

Even as he spoke, Oliver's eyes flicked to Shannon, assessing her response. He pressed further when he saw her brows furrow and worry cross her face.

"I shouldn't have joked like that, not like this. And I definitely should not have done those awful things to you before. I was wrong. I really was."

His voice climbed, dramatic and loud, pulling every guest's focus.

"But Shannon is innocent. She did not know anything. If you are angry, be angry with me. Do not take it out on her. This is all on me!"

I watched his little performance in silence, cold and still as stone.

I had seen this show too many times before.

Each time, it worked.

He knew precisely how to find the softest part of Shannon's heart and twist it.

And then I would be the one who had to back down.

Luke's POV

I kept my eyes fixed on Oliver, giving him nothing but a blank stare.

For a brief moment, a flash of menace appeared in his eyes. Then, before anyone could react, he quickly raised his hand and slapped himself across the face.

The crack echoed through the event hall, sharp and loud enough to make people flinch.

He didn't hold back. One hit followed another, each one harder than the last.

In seconds, his cheek had gone red and swollen.

A thin line of blood smeared the corner of his mouth.

"Oliver!"

Shannon's voice cracked as she lunged toward him. She clutched his wrist with both hands, panic and tears spilling out of her.

"What are you doing? Stop it! Please, don't do this!"

Oliver thrashed against her hold, wild-eyed, like a man convinced pain was the only way left to make things right.

Tears and snot streaked his face as he choked out, "Shannon, let me go! I'm poison. I don't deserve to live! I embarrassed Luke. I ruined your engagement party. I'm not even human. I should die!"

Then, he pounded his chest with his free hand, as if hitting himself could erase what he had done. Shannon clung tightly to his arm, crying so hard that her tears wouldn't stop.

Then Shannon spun toward me, her eyes blazing—the same eyes that once drew me in, now filled with anger.

"Luke, are you happy now?" Her voice cracked, trembling with emotion. "What more do you want? Will you only be satisfied when he's dead? He's still just a kid. He knows he was wrong. What more do you want from him?"

She looked at me as if I were the villain in all of this—cold, heartless, torturing some innocent soul.

That look burned away the last bit of warmth I had left for her.

A kid?

A 'kid' who tampered with my brakes and almost killed me on the highway.

A 'kid' who held up a ridiculous surrogacy contract at my own engagement party.

A 'kid' who was now deliberately hurting himself to corner me.

And Shannon still called him a kid?

Oliver sagged in her arms as if all his strength had vanished, his voice cracking into ragged gasps. "Don't blame Luke, Shannon. I brought this to myself. It's all my fault. Don't blame him…"

The more Oliver played the martyr, the more pity clouded Shannon's eyes, and the sharper her anger turned on me. She clung to him protectively, shielding him like a mother guarding her child, and glared at me as if I were the true villain in the room.

"Look at him! Just look at what you've driven him to!" she hissed. "Luke, I never thought you could be so cold-blooded. I was wrong about you!"

Her chest heaved with each word as she said that, her fury shaking the air between us.

Then, in a flash, she raised her hand.

Before anyone could stop her, and the guests even had time to react, her palm came across my face.

Another slap.

It landed hard, and a hot sting bloomed across my cheek.

The event hall went dead silent.

Everyone stood frozen, stunned by what had just happened.

Shannon's hand lingered in the air for a heartbeat, as if even she couldn't quite believe what she had just done. But the shock didn't last. Her fury came roaring back, sharpened by that fierce instinct to protect.

She pointed at my face, her voice cold, final, and heavy with the kind of threat she expected me to take seriously.

"Luke, apologize to Oliver right now. This very second. Or… our engagement is over." Shannon's voice cut like venom as she forced the rest out.

Her eyes locked on mine, blazing with fury and threat. But beneath the anger, I caught the flicker of panic and the faint spark of hope. She was betting I'd cave like always, throw away my pride for peace, smooth it over, forgive Oliver, and let them walk away victorious.

And so, the moment the words left Shannon's mouth, Oliver leaned into her shoulder. And right then, hidden from her view, his lips curled into the faintest, most smug, self-satisfied smirk.

Luke's POV

That faint smirk on Oliver's lips carried the smug satisfaction of a scheme that had worked, mixed with open contempt for the position he had forced me into.

It was fleeting, but I saw it clearly.

The sting from Shannon's slap still burned across my cheek, but the pain wasn't only on the surface. It had sunk into my chest, seared straight into my heart, and burned away the last trace of warmth I had left.

I said coldly, "I won't apologize."

"Fine. That's your choice," Shannon snapped back. "Then this engagement is off. Take some time to calm down. Think it through. Come find me when you're ready to be rational."

With that, she turned and walked out of the event hall, supporting Oliver without a backward glance.

He leaned against her, pretending to be weak. But right as they turned, he cocked his head and gave me a playful eyebrow raise.

The hall was dead silent. Every guest stared at me, their eyes sharp and prying, like tiny needles pressing into my skin.

I turned to face them, keeping my expression unreadable.

"Everyone," I said evenly, "I'm truly sorry. There's been an unexpected incident, and the engagement party can't continue. I apologize for the poor hospitality and hope you'll understand."

When the hall finally cleared, my phone buzzed in my pocket.

The caller ID lit up:

[Bernard Hoffman]

Shannon's father.

Quickly, I answered the call.

On the other end, he spoke in a low, furious voice, his anger barely restrained.

"Luke! What the hell is going on? I entrusted my daughter to you, and this is how you treat her? I couldn't make it today, and you turned the engagement party into a disaster?"

I replied calmly, "Uncle, at the party, Oliver presented me with a surrogacy contract. He demanded I sign it, claiming Shannon promised him years ago that she would have a child with him."

The line went silent.

Only his heavy breathing told me he hadn't hung up.

Several seconds passed before Bernard's voice returned. His tone had shifted, forceful now, almost like he was bluffing his way through.

"That's what this is about? Oliver is Shannon's sworn brother. They grew up together. They're extremely close. We all know what he's like. He's just an immature kid. It was clearly a joke. A little test to see if your feelings for her are genuine. You really had to blow it out of proportion? Can't you be a little more tolerant?"

The words came quickly, like he had rehearsed them, but the faint tremor at the end of his sentences betrayed him.

As Bernard spoke, I could almost envision him: his brows furrowed together and his eyes shifting anxiously. He was likely rubbing the bridge of his nose, just as he always did when he felt cornered.

"A test?" I repeated, my tone flat.

It was impossible to tell if it was a question or a statement.

That word must have struck a nerve, because his voice rose sharply.

"What else could it be? You think he'd seriously try to cuckold you? If he really meant it, would he say it in front of everyone? You're overthinking this! Shannon was right—you're just too uptight! Now go apologize to her and to Oliver! Clear this up! Or else, I—"

I cut him off by hanging up. I'd heard enough.

Later that night, Shannon called me.

"Luke, have you thought things through?"

Her voice carried no guilt and hesitation, just the same entitled certainty she always spoke with.

I nodded to myself. "Yeah. I've thought it through."

She seemed relieved. Her tone brightened, almost cheerful. "Good. Then come pick me up. We can—"

I cut her off. "The marriage is off."

The line went silent.

A few seconds later, Shannon's voice shot up, sharp and furious. "Fine! Luke, you've got guts! Just don't come crawling back!"