A Passion That Defies Fate

Chapter 6 Run-away Fiancé

Francis was Alan's brother? That tidbit had never crossed Zoey's radar!

Her mind buzzed with a ringing noise and went blank for a few heartbeats. She then toggled her gaze between the two men and finally realized the resemblance of their looks.

''How could I have been so blind? Despite their chalk-and-cheese personalities, they share the same piercing blue eyes! How did I never connect the dots? What in tarnation is going on now? Have I slept with both brothers in some setup orchestrated by the elder? Alan's accusing Francis of trying to off him, and Francis isn't even batting an eye? What's with this bizarre brotherly bond?'

Zoey felt like a pawn in some soap opera penned by a dramatist on a bender, a mere prop in the twisted love-hate saga of Alan and Francis that was tossed around at their whim.

Feeling out of control, confused, and lost, Zoey was itching to grab Francis by the collar and demand he spill the beans right then and there and to free her from this convoluted mess!

She couldn't help but shoot Francis a look loaded with questions.

Francis barely met her gaze before averting his eyes, as if scorched by her probing.

Alan, holding Zoey close around her waist, introduced her, "Francis, meet my future wife, Zoey. Isn't she a knockout?"

Francis' eyes quickly swept over Zoey's perfectly made-up face, and he nodded. "She's absolutely stunning."

Alan squinted, seemingly irked by Francis' composed demeanor, and pressed him. "Since you're here, why don't you offer us your blessings? You've always been such a stickler for propriety, haven't you?"

His emphasis on "you" and "us" seemed calculated, flaunting his relationship with Zoey like a weapon.

Zoey felt confused. Alan's behavior suggested that their engagement was being wielded like a weapon to wound Francis.

What was even weirder was seeing Francis, usually as cool as a cucumber and perpetually poised, now purse his lips with a stern face. He was unwilling even to muster the most perfunctory of blessings, as if he were truly wounded.

''Francis feels hurt? What for? He knows the engagement's a sham! He doesn't even care about my life or death! What play are they putting on now? What kind of secret vendetta lies between them that I'm not privy to? And what role am I supposed to be playing in their drama?'

Zoey couldn't help but furrow her brow, her eyes darting between the two men locked in a visual standoff, her mind racing with speculations.

Eventually, it looked like Francis was the one to back down.

Francis exited the ballroom with clenched fists after throwing a complex glare at Zoey.

His actions left Zoey puzzled. 'What was his glare all about? Isn't he worried Alan might twig on that we've known each other a long time ago?'

Shifting her focus to Alan, Zoey noted no sign of suspicion on his face—just a smug satisfaction, like a wolf king who'd just won a big battle, his fur bristling with triumph.

Before Zoey could make heads or tails of it, Alan whisked her off to the dance floor, spinning her around in front of all the guests.

For the first time in four months, Zoey saw Alan truly happy, as if he was genuinely a young man head over heels in love, dreaming of a blissful married life.

Their dance was seamless, bringing a visual feast to the whole guests. Only today did Zoey realize how good Alan was at ballroom dancing, almost as if he'd practiced for this very moment.

They danced through four songs, with Alan's hand firmly clasped around Zoey's and not letting go even for a second.

Alan's treatment directly influenced how the other guests treated Zoey. Their earlier disdain and distance melted away as if they hadn't heard any of the bad comments on Zoey.

Even knowing that their respect was just a facade bought by Alan's presence, Zoey couldn't help feeling more at ease, and the engagement party turned into a genuinely joyful occasion.

It all seemed like Zoey's girlhood dream had come true.

Strolling through the opulent banquet hall arm in arm with Alan, Zoey couldn't help but sigh inwardly.

Everything she had now—a meticulously planned party, friendly relatives and friends, cheerful music, delicious food, stunning makeup and dress, and a seemingly loving partner—was just what she had dreamed of.

But alas, fake was fake, like soap bubbles floating in the air, ready to pop at any moment.

The illusion of perfection and romance was shattered when a bouquet of white lilies arrived in Alan's hands, accompanied by a letter.

The moment he saw the lilies, Alan dropped Zoey's hand and strode towards the flowers. While reading the letter, his face went through a rapid change, a storm of emotions swirling in his blue eyes.

Clutching the lilies and the letter, Alan dashed out of the banquet hall without a word to Zoey, not even a backward glance—like the prince chasing the mysterious Cinderella who'd vanished at midnight...

Even the music paused briefly in confusion.

Zoey stood frozen, her smile plastered on. Bathed in the gaze of all the guests, she suddenly felt as exposed as if she were streaking down a busy shopping center.

With barely a second thought, Zoey put on an expression of shock and surprise, lifted her skirt, and dashed after Alan. She wasn't going to stay behind and be the butt of the guests' jokes! If Alan didn't care about her dignity, she had no qualms about embarrassing him. Since Alan could bolt over some mysterious flowers and a letter, she'd chase after him to find out why!

Her months of dance training paid off as she sprinted gracefully, even in high heels and a gown, leaving the men who tried to follow in her dust.

Just as she was about to reach the elevator, a private room door swung open, and someone yanked her inside by her wrist.

"Who—?" Zoey's shout was cut off by a strong hand clamping over her mouth.

"Shh," Francis whispered, pressing Zoey against the door with his body, his deep blue eyes boring into hers.

Zoey leaned against the door, hearing the guests who had followed her pass by and enter the elevator.

"Where did she go?"

"Must be chasing Alan!"

"She's crazy! And Alan is so impulsive..."

"Can't blame him! That bouquet was definitely from that woman..."

Their voices faded as the elevator doors closed.

Francis let go of Zoey's mouth but didn't step back. Instead, he pulled her closer, resting his head on her shoulder.

"Don't move... Let me hug you," Francis murmured in his melancholic voice.