Chapter 397
Adkins Windsor let out a derisive snort. “You really think Sheridan’s some kind of saint?”
Rosetta shrugged. “Emma made her own choices–let her live with them. Sheridan might not be perfect, but at least he’s willing to marry her. Honestly, it’s the best ending she could hope for.”
Because if Emma walked away from Sheridan now, where else was she going to find another wealthy family willing to take her in?
“What does Sheridan even see in Emma?” Adkins asked, genuinely baffled.
Baillie, still fuming, knocked back another drink. “His last wife was an influencer. After they got married, they started livestreaming together. Sheridan owns a couple of media companies, so I bet he wants Emma to stir up some controversy–make her infamous, then drag her into the streaming business. The more drama, the bigger the profits.”
Adkins paused, the idea clearly sinking in.
Rosetta asked, “So Emma could become an influencer, too?”
Baillie scoffed. “It’s not as easy as it looks. One wrong move and the internet mobs will tear you apart. But hey, influencers make serious money. Who knows–maybe the Windsor family will end up relying on Emma someday.”
The party was about to begin.
A staff member approached Sheridan with a polite reminder. He nodded in acknowledgment, then turned to Jamison with a smooth smile. “Mr. Jamison, don’t take our earlier conversation too seriously–it was all in good fun. We’re practically family now, so let’s look out for each other.”
With a single offhand remark, Sheridan tried to brush off his fiancée’s rude behavior as nothing but a joke.
If Jamison pressed the issue, he’d look petty–unable to take a little teasing.
But Jamison wasn’t the type to indulge anyone–not even his own parents, let alone Sheridan.
His expression was icy as he replied, utterly unapologetic. “There’s no need to pretend we’re family. Ivy cut ties with the Windsors a long time ago. If you’re set on marrying this woman, Mr. Carter, you’d better keep her in line–unless you want the Carter family to become a laughingstock. Of course, if you and your wife actually enjoy the disgrace, then by all means–congratulations.”
No sooner had Jamison finished than whispers began to ripple through the crowd.
“Told you trying to Jamison? He doesn’t even acknowledge them.”
“He’s only here for the drama, that’s obvious.”
“He’s totally stealing the spotlight, just to get under Emma’s skin. Didn’t you hear? Back when Ivy got kidnapped, wasn’t it Emma who helped the traffickers?”
“No way! Wouldn’t she be in prison?”
“There wasn’t enough evidence, and the Windsors pulled strings to get her off.”
“That explains it… no wonder Ivy cut off the family.”
Their voices weren’t exactly hushed–but just loud enough for the people involved to hear every word.
Emma whipped around, glaring daggers. “Who’s spreading lies? You got proof?”
At her sharp retort, the gossipers immediately clammed up, their eyes wandering elsewhere.
Still, in that instant, not one of them could hide the envy they felt toward Mr. Carter.
All this indulgence and glitz–how much longer could a soul, rotted from endless parties and excess, possibly endure?
Ivy, who hadn’t worn heels in ages, was starting to feel the ache from standing so long.
The tension lingered in the air. She pressed Jamison’s arm, and he caught her meaning right away, leaning down to murmur, “What’s wrong?”
“I’m a little tired. Can we find somewhere to sit for a bit?”
Concern flickered across his face. “Do you want to go home?”
“No, we’re already here. Besides, I have a feeling the real show hasn’t even started.” Ivy’s eyes flicked around the room. The Windsors hadn’t even made their move yet.
“Alright.” Jamison turned to Sheridan, his tone cool, as if he were the real host of the event. “Mr. Carter, looks like the party’s about to start. You two should get to it. Ivy’s not feeling well, so I’ll take her to the lounge for a bit. We’ll skip the ceremony.”