CHAPTER 2: CHAPTER 2: IT’S HIM, BLAKE SINCLAIR

Next afternoon, at the wedding dress shop.

The store clerk warmly greeted Holly as she arrived, but couldn’t help glancing behind her, "Are you... alone again today?"

Holly forced an awkward smile, her nails digging deep into her palm.

Ever since the wedding date was set, she had handled everything herself, from choosing the venue to trying on dresses and selecting rings.

Zion Pence always just said, "You decide."

But he was the one who promised to give her a home, to warm her cold heart!

In front of the full-length mirror, the clerk was helping Holly adjust her wedding dress.

Under the soft lighting, the off-the-shoulder satin mermaid dress shone with a lustrous glow, the hollowed-out design on the side highlighting her slender waistline.

Holly stared blankly at her reflection, her makeup was exquisite, but her eyes were lifeless, like a soulless doll.

"Miss Crowe, this dress seems tailor-made for you!" the clerk praised from behind her, "Your fiancé will definitely be amazed."

Holly nodded, her smile a bit stiff.

"Miss Crowe?" Seeing she seemed lost in thought, the clerk thought Holly didn’t like it and immediately put on a professional smile, "We just received a new dress from Vardenia yesterday, I’ll fetch it for you to try on."

Without waiting for Holly’s response, the clerk had already jogged off.

Holly slowly caressed the satin of the dress with her palm, the wedding ring on her ring finger reflecting light under the soft lamp.

She recalled Zion Pence’s words when he put the ring on her: "Holly, I’ll give you the most perfect wedding."

Ha.

The most perfect wedding?

A groom who didn’t even come to view wedding dresses, how could it still be the most perfect?

Zion Pence, when you put the ring on me, were you thinking about our future, or about Mia?

Her phone suddenly vibrated, an anonymous email popped up, it was a video.

Almost as soon as she clicked on the video, her blood rushed to her brain.

In the back seat of Zion Pence’s Cayenne, Mia was straddling his lap, her red dress hiked up to her thighs, her red lips biting his ear.

"Are you really not going to accompany her to try on the wedding dress? What if she gets angry?" Mia’s voice was sickeningly sweet.

Zion Pence’s hand reached under Mia’s dress, his lips twisted with amusement, his tone unfamiliar, "She won’t."

Mia’s hand climbed up his shoulder, "Are you so sure?"

"Anyway, she’s stupid, she believes whatever I say."

Zion Pence smirked.

"Holly has been with me for seven years, I’ve given her the wedding and title she wanted. Bringing her into the house is also to make her dedicate herself more fully to the company. She’s eager to be in charge of the wedding matters!"

He tilted Mia’s chin up and kissed her.

Their lips and tongues intertwined, producing nauseating sounds.

The video abruptly ended, freezing on Zion Pence’s mocking smile.

A tear dampened the back of her hand, leaving a water stain on the wedding dress.

Everything was a lie!

The happy marriage she thought she had was just a bargaining chip for Zion Pence to support the company.

Those tender vows whispered close to her ear now seemed like mere acting.

Looking at herself in the mirror wearing the wedding dress, Holly felt it was utterly ironic!

Holly tore off the veil, staggering as she rushed out of the fitting room, the mermaid tail of the wedding dress tripping her feet, yet she didn’t stop, her hurried steps like escaping a terrifying cage.

At the corner of the corridor, whispers of the clerks floated into her ears:

"Why do you think Miss Crowe comes to try on wedding dresses alone every time? Her husband never once accompanies her, not even a video call."

"Could she be... the third party? The kind that forces a marriage... I’ve seen quite a few like that recently..."

"Don’t say that, she’s quite pitiful too..."

Holly’s steps halted, her chest seemed gripped by an invisible hand, each breath was so feeble, as if she was about to suffocate.

So, in the eyes of others, she had become a pitiful third party.

Seven years of youth, and this was the result.

She numbly turned back, her mind blank, the mermaid hem of the wedding dress entangled her ankle, unable to react before her body completely lost its balance.

Just as she was about to fall, a pair of arms suddenly appeared, securely catching her waist, and after a moment of disorientation, she fell into a solid chest.

The scent of cedar instantly enveloped her, surrounding her.

Holly looked up, meeting a pair of deep, ink-black eyes.

It was him.

The head of the illustrious Sinclair Family of Beldon.

Blake Sinclair.

The Sinclair Family of Beldon, a century-old prestigious family, wielding immense power in both business and politics.

This generation’s head, Blake Sinclair, is revered as the "Sinclair Tree, unmarred by any stain" - a legendary figure.

Calm and composed, never revealing emotions, his business methods are sharp yet leave no traces.

Aside from his striking appearance, every gesture exudes nobility, his almost fastidious discipline, and adherence to the three hundred and twenty-one family rules of the Sinclairs are most awe-inspiring.

Whenever it comes to Blake Sinclair, everyone knows his restraint and propriety, abstinent from smoking, drinking, and women, too perfect to be desecrated.

No matter the occasion, he is always impeccably dressed in a suit, his tie always perfectly aligned, even the patterns on his cuffs adhering to Sinclair family traditions.

Yet the more so, the more he attracts the heiresses of Beldon, with endless confessions.

But although Blake Sinclair is already twenty-nine, he remains single, as if naturally destined to be an unattainable flower, untouched by the mundane world.

Holly stared straight into his eyes, wondering whose emotions these calm, amber eyes might ever stir...

"Careful."

The man’s gentle voice brushed lightly past her ear like a feather, pulling Holly back to reality, finally realizing how intimate their current posture was.

Her palm was pressed against his chest, able to feel his muscle definition even through the suit, so close she could count his eyelashes.

Blake Sinclair’s hand firmly held her waist, his palm on the skin through the hollow of the dress, the warmth seeping through, making her heart tremble.

Blake was dressed today as usual in a well-fitted black three-piece suit, his collar decorated with a subtly gleaming golden pin under the soft light.

His thin lips pressed into a straight line, he glanced down, slightly furrowing his brows, and his Adam’s apple subtly moved upon seeing the reddened corners of her eyes.

Holly’s cheeks burned; did he hear the clerks’ conversation?

Did he also think she was... the other woman?

In Blake Sinclair’s meticulously principled twenty-nine-year life, hearing those words would have surely sullied his ears.

Holly hurriedly stood up, "Tha... Thank you, President Sinclair," but in her haste, she hadn’t balanced herself and was tripped by the dress, stumbling to the side.

Fortunately, Blake had not yet released his hold, extending his arm to steadily support her once again.

His fingertips brushed almost imperceptibly against Holly’s waist, making her shiver involuntarily.

"Stand firm, Miss Crowe."

How did Blake Sinclair know her name?

Holly was just about to ask when a stern voice came from behind her: "What are you doing?"