Spencer Miller had dropped everything to catch a flight back just to witness the chaos at Julian Adams’ gala.

Julian was so moved he nearly broke down in tears, reaching out for a bear hug. "You guys shouldn't have! You’re way too kind to bring gifts."

Spencer gave him a look that said, *Seriously?*

Maxwell King chuckled, clapping Spencer on the shoulder. "Just take it. And try to keep things under control tonight."

The gala was strictly a peer-level affair, which meant the crowd was wild. Champagne, red and white wines flowed in an endless rotation. A few guests, acting under orders from their parents, gingerly approached Maxwell to network. Maxwell responded with effortless grace, his social maneuvering impeccable.

Spencer, meanwhile, stood by and played the role of the jovial hype-man, smoothing over the edges.

When dinner was finally served, Spencer’s attention drifted entirely to the feast. He’d forgotten all about the drama, happily losing himself in the gourmet spread. Throughout the evening, guests kept offering Maxwell cigarettes or cigars, all of which he politely declined. When the tobacco offers failed, they pivoted to toasts.

Only Cameron Hughes remained seated, staring blankly at his plate.

Miles Young, sitting next to him, nudged his arm. "Should we go over and toast him?"

"Not a chance," Cameron said, his voice cold. "If you want to play the sycophant, go ahead. Don’t drag me into it."

Miles didn't reply. He took a deep breath, grabbed his glass, and joined the throng of people circling Maxwell. As he passed Alexis Morgan, she yanked him back by the sleeve. "Where do you think you're going, traitor? Don't you have any loyalty?"

Miles pulled her hand off his arm. "It’s a direct order from my father. I don’t have a choice."

Alexis let out a frustrated scoff.

A few yards away, Maxwell wasn't about to make anyone lose face. He picked up a delicate porcelain tea cup, offering an apologetic smile to the group. "My apologies, gentlemen. My wife doesn’t like it when I drink, so I’ll have to toast you with tea instead. I hope you’ll excuse me."

The words hit the room like ice water in a deep fryer.

Total silence descended, followed by a roar of whispers. Every pair of eyes in the room was fixed on him, wide with shock. Cameron Hughes’ head snapped up, his gaze sharpening instantly.

Only Spencer remained, head down, methodically clearing his plate, completely oblivious to the room’s sudden shift in temperature.

A moment later, Julian recovered enough from the shock to stutter, "Maxwell... are you… are you married?"

"We’ve filed the paperwork," Maxwell said with a calm smile. "We haven't had the ceremony yet."

"So, that’s why you aren't smoking? Because of your wife?"

Maxwell nodded, his tone nonchalant. "My wife hates the smell of smoke. I’d hate for her to start hating me along with it."

*Hating?*

Good grief. Was he for real? Spencer nearly choked on a mouthful of rice.

The crowd scrambled to process this. Most were still trying to figure out if this was some elaborate joke or a genuine confession. The more tactful socialites quickly pivoted to ass-kissing. "Mr. King, I had no idea you and your wife were so close! Wishing you both a lifetime of happiness."

It was a blatant display of flattery, but Maxwell seemed to enjoy it. "That’s very kind of you. Thank you."

The dam broke. The sycophantic praise flooded in from every direction.

"Wishing you and your bride a wonderful marriage."

"May you and your wife grow old together in harmony."

"A perfect match, truly destined for one another."

Maxwell accepted every word, his glass of tea constantly refilled. The conversation inevitably circled back to his new marriage.

"When is the wedding, Mr. King? I'm already looking forward to the celebration." The speaker was a bottom-tier socialite who lacked real ambition but spent his life trying to leach off the King family's influence. He wore a nauseating, fawning grin.

Maxwell smiled thinly. "This isn't a wedding I can plan alone. It depends entirely on my wife’s wishes." He paused, his expression hardening. "And I wouldn't get your hopes up—I’m not sure she’ll be inviting you."

The man's smile froze in place.

Spencer snorted, then started coughing as he went down the wrong pipe, scrambling for a glass of water while he hissed, "Damn it, Maxwell, you’re ruthless!"

"How did you and your wife meet, Mr. King?"

The room held its breath, everyone eager to hear the lore of the new Mrs. King.

Maxwell: "We were college classmates."

"Oh—campus romance! That’s incredible."

"It’s not easy to make it last that long."

"Love that goes from the classroom to the altar—that’s rare."

Maxwell laughed softly, acknowledging the sentiment. "It’s true. It certainly hasn't been easy."

Cameron’s pupils constricted. He stared at Maxwell, a look of pure dread crossing his face. He wasn't one to overthink, but he knew exactly who Maxwell had dated in college. There had only been one girl.

Could it really be…?

No. It was impossible.

His right eyelid began to twitch violently. He pressed a hand to his eye, a sudden, inexplicable panic rising in his chest. His gaze drifted to a plate of lobster, but his eyes were unfocused, tracking nothing.

Suddenly, a sharp, intrusive ringtone cut through the chatter.

The room fell silent. Maxwell offered an apologetic nod and pulled out his phone. The second he saw the caller ID, his eyes softened, the cold, composed mask melting into pure, unadulterated tenderness.

"Excuse me. It’s my wife."

He didn't wait for a reply, turning toward the terrace as he picked up, his entire demeanor shifting. He looked like a man who’d just been handed the world.

The room watched, bewildered.

Just before he stepped out, Cameron heard him speak into the phone, his voice dropping into a register so intimate it was agonizing. "Lili? What’s wrong?"

The world felt like it was fracturing. Cameron sat motionless, his soul seemingly leaking out of his eyes as he stared at Maxwell’s retreating back.

Miles’ eyes went wide. "Did he just call her... did I hear that right?"

Noah Carter had heard it too, though he brushed it off. "It’s just a name, Miles. Thousands of people are called Lili. Don’t start jumping to conclusions."

Alexis chimed in, "Exactly. You don't actually think Maxwell King married Arianna Stone, do you?" She let out a sharp, incredulous laugh. "That’s insane."

Miles took a silent sip of his drink, thinking: *You idiots don't know a damn thing.*

Cameron’s face had gone paper-white. He remembered Arianna’s voice from a few days ago, her adamant claim that she was married to Maxwell. Only the paperwork was done, no ceremony. And now, Maxwell’s wife was his college classmate, and her nickname was also Lili.

Every single detail lined up perfectly.

Cameron couldn't even lie to himself anymore. His brain felt as though it had been detonated; his heart felt squeezed in a cold, iron grip, making every breath a chore. His knuckles turned white as he gripped his glass, his fingers trembling uncontrollably.

Alexis noticed the shift first, leaning in close. "What’s wrong with you?"

"Arianna," Cameron whispered, his voice barely audible, a frantic, broken mantra. "It’s impossible. He actually married her. This… this can't be real."

The party continued around them, the hollow sounds of professional sycophancy ringing through the hall. No one noticed the three of them. In the sudden, suffocating quiet of their corner, Noah and Alexis heard him clearly, and they both froze.

"Surely not," Noah muttered.

"Right," Alexis added, her voice faltering. "How could he ever marry someone like her..."

Her voice died out. They all arrived at the same terrifying realization at the same time: No one in this room understood the history between Maxwell, Arianna, and Cameron better than they did. One was the former best friend; the other was the jilted ex.