A lapdog?

The word cut deeper than a knife. Around me, I felt the mocking eyes of the crowd, full of contempt.

So that’s what they thought of me? Evelyn Carter’s obedient little pet?

But I wasn’t one.

Evelyn and I met during a student club activity in my sophomore year. I’d just finished a grueling basketball game, was starving, and stole a pack of chips from my roommate. He cursed me out and told me to call him “godfather” if I wanted to eat his food.

I didn’t even take the joke seriously, but he actually did it, humiliating himself in front of everyone.

That was when Evelyn stepped forward, sharp and fearless, telling me not to bully people just because they were broke—and not to steal food either.

She had that “big sister” vibe, always trying to play fair.

So I leaned into it, pretended to be a pitiful poor boy, pestering her every day until she finally softened. Before long, we were together, and the whole school whispered that I was her kept man.

The rumor stung. I didn’t want her to feel embarrassed, so I told her the truth—that my family wasn’t poor at all. But she just shrugged, as if it didn’t matter.

We were together for four years. No dramatic fights, no big betrayals—just raw, passionate love.

So how could she suddenly throw me away?

I looked at Evelyn on stage, and my chest burned with the need for answers. I started toward her, but before I could reach her, Marco Ramirez blocked my path.

He was so short he had to crane his neck to glare up at me. I actually had to dip my head just to meet his eyes.

“You’re still here?” He sneered, puffing up his chest. Then he jumped, trying to slap me across the face.

I stepped back, frowning, and looked past him. “Evelyn… you broke up with me just to marry this clown?”

“What nonsense are you spouting?”

Before I could react, Evelyn stepped forward and slapped me hard across the cheek.

When Marco swung, I dodged. But when Evelyn struck me, I didn’t move. I was terrified that if I dodged, she’d stumble in those high heels and fall.

She was about to be married, and I was still protecting her. Was I really this pathetic?

Touching my stinging cheek, I felt grief rise like a tide.

Marco smirked, stepping closer, his oily face twisted with contempt.

“So you’re Evelyn’s boyfriend from college, huh? A boy toy playing above his station? Do you even know who I am? I’m Marco Ramirez, heir to the wealthiest family in Charleston.”

I ignored him, my eyes locked on Evelyn. “Leaving without a word—that’s not fair to me.”

“Fair?”

Her tone was ice. “I’ve given you a villa, a car, and millions in savings. What else do you want?”

“Stop this, Nicholas. We’re done!”

Evelyn’s brows furrowed, her lips trembling slightly. “You know as well as I do—families like mine keep love and marriage separate. Thank you for being by my side for four years, but my husband can only be Marco. Do you understand?”

“I’m only asking you one thing.”

My voice was quiet, but steady. “Do you love me?”

I knew how these dynastic marriages worked. My parents had been bound by one, but they had grown up together, fallen in love naturally, and luck had been on their side.

As for me…

I could have had the same fate if I had wanted. My family’s standing in New York’s elite circles was more than secure. I didn’t need to marry for advantage.

“Love?” Evelyn sneered.

“Stop deluding yourself, Nicholas. I’ve known since I was a child that I would be married off. I never believed in love. I was with you because you were handsome… and poor enough to be easy to control.”

Her words were dagger, cold and merciless.

“Now you know the truth you wanted. Leave.”

So, the four years I thought were filled with genuine love were nothing but a lie?

To Evelyn Carter, had I been nothing more than a pretty, obedient boy toy?

How ridiculous.

I nodded slowly. If that was how it was, then fine.

My chest ached, but I could let her go. I came here to try and fight for her one last time. If I couldn’t win her back, then I would set her free.

I looked at Evelyn with a pained smile. “Alright then. I wish you happiness.”

Turning, I started to leave the stage.

But Evelyn’s hands clenched, her eyes darting away from mine as if she couldn’t bear to meet them.

Before I could step off, Marco Ramirez planted himself on my path, smirking.

“Since you’ve already come this far, you might as well stay. Otherwise, you’re disrespecting me, the Ramirez family, and the entire city of Charleston!”

“So arrogant?”

I laughed under my breath.

I’d heard that tone countless times before. In New York’s elite circles, it was inevitable that some desperate upstarts tried to puff themselves up. I’d crushed enough of them over the years that no one dared talk to me like this anymore.

Marco didn’t hear the contempt in my voice. He clapped his hands.

Immediately, a group of men in black suits filed in, surrounding the stage.

“Kid, if I’m unhappy today, you won’t leave this place alive.”

“Get out of here, Nicholas! I don’t want to see you again!” Evelyn snapped, her voice sharp.

“Did I ask you to speak?” Marco snarled, glaring at her. “Do you think I’m blind? Can’t you see you’re still protecting this guy?”

Protecting me?

I caught her gaze for a moment. Worry flickered in her eyes.

Could she really have been lying just now?

Evelyn shook her head quickly. “I just don’t want to be connected to my past anymore. Besides, today is our engagement—why should my ex-boyfriend have any part in it? And if people talk about it afterward, wouldn’t you lose face?”

Her tone softened, almost coaxing. “Marco, I’m thinking of you.”

Marco’s expression loosened, but arrogance still dripped from his voice. “I’m not afraid of losing face. In Charleston, I’m the king!”

He jabbed a finger at me. “Sit down there and watch the ceremony!”

I gave Evelyn a faint, crooked smile and walked down from the stage.

But no sooner had I stepped off than four bodyguards shoved me into a corner seat, boxing me in.

Marco leaned forward smugly. “You’re not leaving until I say you can.”

I chuckled. “If you don’t let me go now, you won’t be able to get rid of me later.”

“Shut up!” Evelyn barked.

I only smiled faintly and said nothing. If they wanted to play this game, they couldn’t blame me for how it ended.

Marco’s voice boomed again. “I hear you’re from New York? Perfect. Some of the capital’s top young elites are coming later. I’ll introduce you to them, let you see what real power looks like.”

“Thanks in advance,” I replied lightly, unable to suppress another grin.

Just then, a group of people swept into the hall.

Young men and women, dressed impeccably, carried themselves with calm arrogance.

At their head was a man barely into his twenties, yet he radiated authority that stilled the room.

“Zane, you’re finally here,” Marco beamed, stepping forward eagerly, hand outstretched. “My engagement party wouldn’t be complete without you.”

But the young man—Zane Mitchell—ignored his hand completely. He didn’t even glance at Marco. Instead, his eyes locked directly onto Evelyn.

“You’re Evelyn Carter?” he asked.

She blinked, startled, before nodding.

Zane’s expression softened into a faint smile. “He hid you well. Otherwise, we’d have crossed paths much earlier.”

Marco assumed Zane meant him and frowned in confusion. But he quickly masked it and gestured grandly to the crowd.

“Ladies and gentlemen, this is Zane Mitchell, heir of the Mitchell family of New York—the Crown Prince of the capital itself. The Mitchells are the strongest backers of my Ramirez family here in Charleston!”

“I’ve got a phone. Want me to call the cops for you?”

The group of swaggering lackeys burst into loud, mocking laughter.

I lowered my head, scrolling lazily through my phone, too disinterested to respond further.

But one thing was clear—Evelyn Carter really was trying to protect me.

The engagement ceremony wrapped up soon after.

Then came the real purpose of the event: food, drinks, and networking.

Marco Ramirez strutted around the hall with Evelyn at his side, glass in hand, offering a toast as guests fawned over him.

I sat quietly, digging into what I could find in the Ramirez family. They were indeed Charleston’s wealthiest household, but at the end of the day, they were nouveau riche.

The Ramirezes had only clawed their way to the top because of connections in New York, landing enough projects to solidify their fortune. Yet, for all their money, they’d never cracked Charleston’s true old-money circles.

Tonight’s guest list confirmed it—most here were either vassals of the Ramirez clan or hangers-on of the Carter family.

The Carters, though once a respected family, had long since declined.

This marriage was transactional: the Ramirezes wanted aristocratic legitimacy, and the Carters wanted financial rescue.

It was a story I’d seen play out countless times in history books and in real life. Marriage, after all, was as much a business deal as any merger.

Just then, a girl no older than sixteen or seventeen plopped into the chair beside me. She was pretty in a sweet way, cheeks still rounded with youth, her features bearing a striking resemblance to Evelyn.

“My name’s Emily Carter. I’m Evelyn’s younger sister,” she said matter-of-factly.

“From now on, don’t say a word. Just come with me.”

Her doll-like face didn’t match the icy tone of her voice. She grabbed my hand firmly.

But I didn’t move. Instead, I asked evenly, “Did your sister send you to help me?”

“What do you think?” Emily snapped, brows furrowing. “If you don’t come now, you won’t be able to leave at all.”

At that moment, several more bodyguards in black suits began drifting toward me.

Emily sighed, letting go of my hand and slumping back in her chair. She knew as well as I did that she couldn’t get me out.

“You shouldn’t have come,” she murmured, almost to herself. “If it weren’t for you, my sister wouldn’t be stuck marrying that short, greasy creep.”

For me?

I was taken aback, but before I could press her further, a stir rippled through the banquet hall.

Marco and Evelyn headed toward the entrance, signaling everyone to rise.

Seven or eight young elites entered, men and women alike, their tailored suits and gowns matched by the quiet confidence in their bearing.

The leader, especially, though only in his early twenties, carried himself with gravity that made the entire hall take notice.

“Zane, you finally made it!” Marco hurried forward, extending his hand eagerly. “Otherwise, my engagement party wouldn’t be half as grand.”

But Zane Mitchell didn’t so much as glance at him. He ignored Marco’s outstretched hand, his eyes locked squarely on Evelyn.

“You’re Evelyn Carter?”

She faltered, clearly caught off guard, before nodding.

Zane’s hard expression softened just slightly. “He covered his tracks well. Otherwise, we’d have known each other long ago.”

Marco blinked in confusion, wondering when exactly he’d ever “hidden” anything. But he shook it off quickly and raised his voice for everyone to hear.

“Everyone, allow me to introduce Zane Mitchell of the Mitchell family in New York—the true heir, the Crown Prince of the capital itself! The Mitchells are the Ramirez family’s greatest allies!”

The applause was immediate, loud, and almost desperate. The guests practically fell over themselves to flatter the Mitchell heir.

Marco Ramirez, however, had his eye on me. He noticed I was still sitting comfortably on the sofa.

“Boy, who the hell do you think you are, staying seated?” he barked, his oily face twisting with disdain.

Evelyn Carter’s voice cut in, sharp with command. “Nick Whitmore, stand up!”