Chapter 368

The surrounding girls burst into laughter, their gazes flickering suggestively between Evelyn and Gregory.

Evelyn frowned slightly. "Why would they be scared?"

The bride, Linda, leaned in conspiratorially. "Last Christmas party, Lucy wore a sheer camisole dress to take Gregory home. The next day, he moved out without even collecting his security deposit."

Evelyn arched a brow. "That dramatic?"

"Absolutely," Linda whispered. "Later, we made a bet—anyone who could get Gregory to spare a second glance would win a thousand bucks. The prize money’s still with me."

Before she could finish, a saccharine voice called from behind. "Linda, happy wedding!"

Linda spun around, delighted. "Oh my god, Annabelle!"

"A gift for you."

Linda eagerly unwrapped the velvet box and gasped. "This is Tiffany’s limited edition—"

Annabelle gracefully tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Do you like it?"

"It’s too extravagant..."

"Did you forget who my fiancé is?" Annabelle chuckled meaningfully.

Linda immediately caught on. "Alexander bought this? Then I won’t hold back!"

"Him?" Annabelle cooed. "If I asked for the stars, he’d build me a ladder."

Evelyn retreated two steps without a word, melting into the shadows of the crowd.

At the banquet hall entrance, Alexander Hamilton ended a call with a furrowed brow. His silver-gray suit accentuated his tall frame, but couldn’t mask the exhaustion in his eyes.

"Alexander!" Annabelle hurried over, her silver fringe dress clinging to her curves. She looped her arm through his. "You’re late."

He withdrew his hand. "Business."

"Don’t be like that," she murmured. "My parents are watching."

His gaze sharpened, but he didn’t push her away again.

Annabelle triumphantly led him toward the group. "Everyone, this is my fiancé, Alexander Hamilton."

Linda eagerly showed off the necklace. "Mr. Hamilton, you’re too generous."

Alexander glanced at the jewelry, his expression instantly frosty. "You bought this?"

Annabelle’s smile faltered. "The designer insisted you had to—"

"Using my name?" His voice was soft, yet the temperature around them plummeted.

Annabelle rushed to explain. "I thought since Linda’s getting married—"

"Never again." He turned to leave, but Annabelle clung to him desperately.

"Just ten minutes," she pleaded, eyes glistening. "Please."

Alexander’s gaze swept the room—then paused at a corner. Evelyn stood there, sipping champagne, her hair obscuring half her face.

"Five minutes," he said coldly.