Chapter 311 Holding a Wedding?

Chapter 311 Holding a Wedding?

Imogen's pupils contracted sharply, her eyes filled with disbelief. "How could this happen? At the Brown family banquet, didn't they publicly clear up the misunderstanding? William... he wouldn't be so foolish!"

"That was all for show!" Winter raised her voice, urgency and resentment flooding her tone. "William never let go of Evelyn! Now that Evelyn wants to come back to Michael, William's acting like a madman, using every method to crush him. Now Charles has even taken the CEO position!"

Winter sobbed bitterly. "Hannah even came to mock me. Mom, you know how shameless Hannah was back then. You saw how she stole Caspian from me! She took my husband, and now she's brought her son to bully Michael. If this continues, I don't want to live anymore! I'll just go with you!"

"Shut up!" Ronan cut her off, unable to take it anymore. He pointed at the door and roared, "You unfilial wretch! Can't you see your mother's face is white as a sheet? You're still upsetting her with this nonsense! Who knows if anything you're saying is even true? Get out! Now! Or I'll have someone throw you out!"

Imogen leaned back on the sofa, her face pale as paper, chest heaving with each breath.

She looked at Winter, still wailing, then at her furious husband. Her eyes were full of exhaustion and helplessness.

After a moment of silence, she slowly raised her hand, signaling both to be quiet. Her voice was weak but carried undeniable resolve. "I believe Winter is telling the truth."

Tears streamed down Imogen's face as she kept murmuring, "I'm afraid William is walking the same path I did! He's so excellent, so capable—why should he be criticized like I was? I ruined him. I set a terrible example for him!"

Her emotions surged. She cried so hard she couldn't catch her breath. Then she collapsed, unconscious.

---

Afternoon sunlight filtered through the sheer curtains, casting dappled shadows on the floor.

I'd finally gotten some decent sleep—probably because William's presence had given me a sense of security.

Just then, two voices reached my ears.

"Aunt Evelyn, I'm hungry!" "Mommy, my tummy's growling!"

Accompanied by gentle shaking, they woke me.

I groggily opened my eyes to see Isabella and Katya's little faces hovering by the bed, like two lambs waiting to be fed.

I reached for my phone on the pillow. The screen showed 2:40 PM.

Remembering what William had said before I fell asleep, I asked, confused, "Uncle William hasn't come back yet?"

He'd clearly said he was going out to buy groceries. But hours had passed.

The two little girls blinked and shook their heads in unison, looking bewildered. "No, we didn't see Uncle William come back."

My heart sank inexplicably.

William always kept his word. He never broke promises without reason, especially over something as simple as grocery shopping.

But the two girls were clearly starving. I didn't have time to overthink it. I quickly got up and headed to the kitchen.

After putting the last dish on the table, I remembered I still hadn't checked my phone.

No missed calls.

This was completely unlike William. If something had come up, he would have at least called.

So where was he?

Just then, my phone rang.

I thought it was William, but it was Amelia.

I answered. Amelia's urgent, angry voice immediately filled my ear. "Has Michael lost his mind? You agreed to have a wedding with him?"

"A wedding?" I was completely lost. "What are you talking about? When did I agree to a wedding?"

"You don't know?" Amelia's voice shot up. "He posted on Instagram two hours ago! The internet's going crazy. Go check it out!"

My chest tightened. I quickly hung up and opened my browser.

Michael's Instagram post was pinned at the top of the homepage. The content was simple but had massive impact: "Any recommendations for wedding planning teams?"

The comments had already surpassed 200,000. The enthusiasm of netizens seemed to overflow from the screen.

"Here's my wedding planning checklist from last year. Take it, no thanks needed!"

"Mr. Johnson is giving his wife the grand wedding she deserves!"

"The wedding that's four years late is finally happening! This secret marriage is finally coming to light! Congratulations!"

"I thought he was a scumbag, but turns out he's a reformed man. I'm so here for this! She's so lucky!"

Michael's post made my temples throb with anger.

Suddenly, I remembered William hadn't come back. Maybe he saw this post and got upset.

I immediately pulled up William's number and called. But all I got was a message saying his phone was off.

Again and again, the same automated message.

My unease grew stronger.

My phone was still clutched in my hand, the comments under Michael's Instagram post still refreshing wildly.

After his initial exposure, he'd built a "reformed man" persona and gained quite a following. He'd earned a lot of attention.

Just then, the Thomas family called.

I took a deep breath and answered. Harper's anxious voice poured through immediately. "Evelyn! Is what's online true? Are you really having a wedding with Michael?"

Before Harper finished, Mason's serious voice took over. "Remember how Michael treated you before. That man is completely unreliable. Don't be foolish. You can't go back to him!"

My parents spoke over each other, full of worry and warnings.

I explained that the Instagram post was Michael's unilateral decision, that I'd never agreed to marry him. It took a lot of convincing to get them to calm down.

After hanging up, I watched the online discussion escalate. I couldn't take it anymore. I dialed Michael's number.

The moment he picked up, I demanded, barely containing my fury, "Michael, delete that Instagram post right now. Stop posting this ridiculous nonsense! I'm telling you clearly—I will never marry you!"

Michael let out a sinister laugh. "Evelyn, you've seen the response online. Everyone wants us to be together. Some things can't be explained over the phone. Come to the hospital. We'll talk face-to-face."

"I have nothing to talk to you about." I refused without hesitation and hung up, furious.

I thought Michael would back off. But over the next few days, he seemed determined to drag this farce to the end.

Every day, he posted an update—from wedding dress styles to venue options to wedding favor designs. He shared every detail of the so-called wedding planning process.

Each post gathered massive crowds of netizens. This "wedding of the century," announced unilaterally by him, remained a hot topic.

My life was thrown into chaos. Paparazzi even camped outside my building.

I knew avoiding this wouldn't solve anything.

As long as I didn't see him, he'd keep posting this absurd content to force me to appear.

Unless I never left the house, never socialized, never participated in society again—locked myself indoors forever.

Otherwise, wherever I went, I'd be the subject of gossip. And everyone would associate me with him.

So I grabbed my coat and headed straight to the hospital where Michael was staying.