All the way to the venue, makeup artists and stylists worked on her frantically, racing against the clock.
...
Pearl Tower truly lived up to its reputation as Los Angeles's most exclusive Michelin-starred restaurant.
The banquet hall glittered in gold and crystal. Roses, airlifted from overseas, filled the air with fragrance, and chandeliers cast diamond-like light across the marble floors.
When Venice appeared, dressed in a backless wedding gown—whispers immediately spread through the crowd.
"Wait, isn't this Kevin's engagement banquet? Why is she here?"
"Is she here to crash it? Please—she's just the owner of some failed café. How could she possibly match the McAuliffe family?"
"Still, she's brave. But the Cervantes family won't let her walk out of here unharmed."
Their murmurs reached her ears, but Venice only curled her lips in a faint smile.
Let them talk.
Soon, every one of them would choke on their words.
The elevator chimed with a crisp ding.
Stefanie stepped out, holding Kevin's arm.
At that instant, the room fell into stunned silence—because Stefanie was wearing the exact same wedding gown as Venice!
Kevin's expression turned dark as thunder. He strode toward her, his voice low and sharp enough to cut. "So this is where you've been hiding. You caused chaos at the villa, and now you show up here—wearing the same dress as Stefanie?"
His words were ice. "Venice, I'll say this one last time—take off that gown and get out! "
Venice met his gaze, her lips trembling slightly before she spoke—for the first time in eight years.
"Kevin, I'm not leaving."
He froze, startled. "You... you can talk?"
But then, his sneer returned. "So what? Even if you're not mute, I still wouldn't marry you."
"Don't worry," Venice's voice steady. "I didn't come here to marry you."
And just then, the doors of the banquet hall burst open with a bang.
Ronald strode in first, followed by a tall man in a perfectly tailored black suit. His features were chiseled and sharp, his presence commanding, every step exuding confidence and authority.
"You recognize him, don't you?" Venice said coolly. "Your uncle, Adam."
She crossed the room, her heels clicking softly against the marble, and took Adam's arm with quiet familiarity.
"But he has another identity now," she said, her smile calm and devastating. "Allow me to introduce him properly—Adam McAuliffe, my fiancé."