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.