Chapter 85

Seraphina Delacroix had no clue about Adrian Cross’s plan to propose. The shock left her utterly speechless. Isabelle Laurent remained composed, questioning whether he was serious. "What if you lose?" she asked pointedly.

To everyone’s surprise, Adrian responded with chilling calm. "If I lose, I’ll walk away. But if I win, I’ll propose—and amplify the publicity. It’s the perfect setup for my rebranding." He even added, with a smirk, "Besides, I genuinely want to marry Seraphina."

Nathan Blackwood arched a brow. How convenient. In the cutthroat world of entertainment, strategic marriages for clout weren’t unheard of. But back then, fame was built on trending stars—marriage, regardless of gender, meant a steep decline in popularity and opportunities. Unless, of course, Adrian had already decided to ditch chasing trends and pivot to serious acting.

Hilarious. Nathan nearly scoffed aloud. Adrian’s audacity was staggering—asking for his girlfriend’s ex’s blessing on live television? The expressions on Sebastian Hart and Seraphina’s faces must’ve been priceless.

But Sebastian lost all decorum, lashing out at Seraphina. "You’re nothing but a gold-digger," he sneered. "How many rich men have you played before settling for this fool?" His voice dripped with venom. "Does he even realize he’s signing up to be a cuckold?"

Lucky he didn’t get punched.

Nathan’s mind flashed to the intel he’d gathered. Rumor had it Sebastian once worked himself to exhaustion, landing in the hospital, just to support Seraphina—only for her to leave him for a silver-spoon heir. The betrayal had clearly festered into bitterness.

Yet Adrian didn’t react. Instead, he smiled, as if Seraphina’s virtue was unquestionable. "She’s amazing," he said simply, fueling Sebastian’s fury.

Sebastian’s terms were brutal: Kneel. Apologize. Drink an entire bottle of wine. Then—and only then—would he consider collaborating.

Since when did he think he was some tyrannical CEO? Nathan mused, unimpressed.

Humiliated, Seraphina fled.

Isabelle scolded Sebastian, but he brushed her off, claiming the room was suffocating. When she tried to stop him, she twisted her ankle—prompting Adrian to stay behind and help.

"Go after him," Isabelle urged, but Adrian ignored her. Odd, Nathan thought. What’s his game?

Evelyn Sinclair was equally puzzled—until a commotion erupted outside.

Sebastian’s voice was rough, barely restrained. "Running again? Can’t face me?"

Seraphina pressed a delicate hand against his chest, but the strength difference was laughable. Sebastian seized her wrists, pinning them above her head. She struggled, but it was futile—like a fragile doll in his grip. Tears welled in her eyes as she looked up helplessly.

Cliché? Absolutely. But witnessing it in person? Evelyn’s stomach twisted with secondhand embarrassment—and an unsettling thrill.

Nathan’s hand suddenly covered her eyes. "Don’t look," he muttered.

Not that she wanted to. But someone seemed to have forgotten two critical facts: Seraphina had a boyfriend, and Sebastian had just vowed to marry her manager. Call it rekindled passion—or call it a train wreck.

Sebastian’s grip tightened. "Who are you trying to seduce with those tears? Think I’d fall for it again?"

"I—I didn’t!" Seraphina’s voice trembled. "Let me go! I’m Adrian’s girlfriend now—"

Her plea dissolved into a gasp as Sebastian crushed his lips to hers.

Evelyn’s jaw dropped. Is this consensual? She hesitated—until Seraphina’s weak punches slowed… then stopped. Her arms slid around Sebastian’s neck instead.

Oh.

Nathan’s palm stayed firmly over Evelyn’s eyes. "Told you not to watch."

But the damage was done. The pie chart of Evelyn’s emotions had officially shattered.

And somewhere, Adrian Cross was definitely regretting his life choices.