Chapter 31 Engagement Party 2
The hostess stepped forward, tapping the microphone lightly. The soft hum of conversations gradually died down.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” she announced with a practiced smile, “kindly take your seats. Dinner will now be served.”
A ripple of excitement moved through the hall as guests adjusted their seats and straightened their outfits. Chairs scraped softly against the marble floor, and the warm glow of the chandeliers reflected off crystal glasses and polished cutlery.
Almost on cue, a line of waiters and waitresses entered from both sides of the hall. They moved with impressive precision—each dressed in crisp white uniforms trimmed with black, each balancing a wide silver tray with effortless grace. The aroma reached the guests even before the dishes were placed on the tables: rich spices, roasted meat, delicate sauces, and something subtly sweet.
The servers worked in perfect synchronization, setting down plates with quiet elegance. Steaming dishes were arranged carefully—golden fried rice flecked with vegetables, glossy stir-fried prawns, tender slices of beef glazed in dark sauce, and artfully plated sides that looked almost too beautiful to eat. Every plate felt intentional, luxurious.
A collective murmur spread through the room.
“Oh my goodness…” “This looks incredible.” “I can’t wait to taste this.”
Guests exchanged delighted glances, some already lifting their cutlery in anticipation. Cameras flashed discreetly as a few people captured photos of the spread before them.
The seating arrangement was just as deliberate as the menu. Each family had their own table, creating an air of intimacy despite the grandeur of the event. At the center, however, the Wentworths and the Montclairs shared one long, elegant table—an unmistakable symbol of the alliance being celebrated.
Vivienne Montclair sat tall, her posture calm but proud. She accepted compliments with graceful nods as guests leaned over to praise the food, the décor, the flawless coordination.
“You outdid yourself,” one woman said admiringly. “This is exquisite,” another added. “Every detail is perfect.”
Across the table, Jaxon’s mother allowed herself a satisfied smile. She had overseen every arrangement personally, and the admiration in the room was unmistakable.
“I wanted everything to reflect unity,” she said simply, lifting her glass. “Tonight is special.”
Elena sat quietly, hands folded in her lap for a moment as she took it all in—the laughter, the clinking of glasses, the sense of celebration pressing in from every direction. The dinner had officially begun, and with it, the next undeniable step toward a future neither family could turn back from.
As they ate, Elena and Jaxon did their best not to appear awkward at the table.
They sat side by side, shoulders close but not quite touching, exchanging brief glances when someone spoke directly to them. Elena focused on her plate more than necessary, cutting her food carefully, while Jaxon nodded politely to conversations around him, occasionally adding a word or two. To anyone watching, they looked composed—perfect even. Only they knew how deliberate every movement was.
Thankfully, they managed to pull it off until dinner came to an end.
Plates were cleared, soft murmurs of satisfaction filled the air, and guests leaned back in their chairs, visibly pleased. Compliments flowed freely across the room, and Jaxon’s mother beamed with pride, accepting every word with graceful gratitude. The dinner had been a success.
A few minutes passed before the hostess stepped forward again, tapping lightly on the microphone.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” she announced warmly, “we invite you all to make your way to the ballroom for the dance.”
Chairs scraped softly against the floor as guests stood and moved toward the wide ballroom doors. The space was elegant—crystal chandeliers overhead, polished floors reflecting soft golden light. People mingled as they danced, laughter and light conversation floating through the air. It was calm. Almost normal.
Too normal.
Then the band shifted.
The rhythm changed suddenly, smoother, slower, more intimate. The lead singer leaned into the microphone with a smile and announced,
“This next set is for the couples.”
Elena froze.
Jaxon stiffened beside her.
Neither of them had expected that.
Before either could react, Brielle’s voice rang out loudly over the music.
“Elaxon! Elaxon!!”
Elena’s head snapped in her direction instantly, her eyes narrowing in a sharp warning glare. But it was already too late.
The chant caught on.
“Elaxon! Elaxon! Elaxon!”
The room echoed with it, voices overlapping, clapping in rhythm. Phones were raised, smiles widened, anticipation thick in the air.
Elena exhaled slowly, then turned to Jaxon. For a brief second, their eyes met—shared resignation, shared understanding. She gave Brielle one last murderous stare before slipping her hand into Jaxon’s.
His hand was warm. Steady.
Together, they walked toward the center of the ballroom.
As soon as they stepped onto the floor, the lights shifted. Neon hues washed over the room—soft pinks, deep purples, glowing blues. A love song filled the space, slow and tend
er, wrapping around them like a spell.