Chapter 39: The Trap at the Banquet–1
Chapter 39: The Trap at the Banquet
(Olivia’s POV)
I paid no attention to Ethan Grey’s departure from the banquet. His presence–or
absence–meant nothing to me now.
Holding a crystal flute of champagne, I smiled politely as I conversed with yet another important guest. The evening had become a blur of introductions and small talk.
Connor stood beside me, his tall frame commanding respect as he introduced me to
several influential figures in legal and academic circles. His hand occasionally
brushed against the small of my back, a subtle gesture of support that didn’t go
unnoticed by the observant wolves around us.
“This is Olivia Winters,” he would say, his deep voice carrying a hint of pride. “One of
the most promising young lawyers in Riverdale.”
Alexander, not to be outdone, had been parading me around to meet various
business associates and pack leaders. His enthusiasm was exhausting but
endearing.
“My brilliant cousin,” he’d announce with a flourish. “The Winters pack’s finest.”
After hours of networking, my feet were screaming in protest. The elegant heels I’d chosen for the evening had become instruments of torture. I leaned close to Connor,
catching his familiar scent.
“You handle things here,” I whispered softly in his ear. “I’m going to rest on the sofa
for a bit.”
Connor nodded slightly, his ice–blue eyes meeting mine briefly before returning to his conversation with the middle–aged couple before him. Even that fleeting glance carried warmth that only I could see.
I made my way to a plush sofa in a quieter corner of the grand hall. Sinking into the cushions, I slipped off my heels beneath the table and massaged my aching feet with a sigh of relief.
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A waiter approached with a silver tray. “Strawberry juice, miss? It’s freshly made.”
My favorite. I accepted the glass with a grateful smile. “Thank you.”
+8 Points
The juice was deliciously sweet and refreshing. I took several sips, suddenly realizing
how thirsty I’d been. My stomach growled softly, reminding me that I hadn’t eaten
before arriving at the banquet.
Rising briefly, I visited the buffet table and selected a small piece of cake. The rich
dessert paired perfectly with the strawberry juice as I settled back onto the sofa.
My gaze drifted across the room, inevitably finding Connor. He stood tall among the
guests, his presence commanding yet not overbearing. As if sensing my attention, he
looked up, our eyes meeting across the crowded space.
I smiled, feeling my eyes curve with genuine happiness. After a moment’s pause, his
lips curled into that rare, subtle smile he reserved only for me before he turned back
to his conversation.
The sight warmed me more than any champagne could. I watched him quietly, my heart full of tenderness and affection I never thought I’d feel again.
The unpleasantness with Ethan earlier had left no lasting impression. It was like watching a movie about strangers–emotionally distant and ultimately forgettable.
Now, Connor filled my entire vision and thoughts.
Memories surfaced unbidden. As a child, I’d dreamed of a loving marriage like my parents had. I remembered watching my mother Sarah’s face light up whenever my father entered a room, the way they’d dance in the kitchen when they thought no one
was watching.
But then came my mother’s death from wolfsbane poisoning. The light left our home, and when my father Richard remarried Natalie just two years later, my childhood fantasy shattered completely. I lost faith in love and marriage, seeing them as nothing but convenient arrangements destined to be betrayed.
When the alliance with Connor was first proposed, I viewed it as merely a business arrangement–a cold, political union that would benefit our packs but offer nothing more than polite companionship without real intimacy.
Yet as we grew closer these past weeks, I began seeing the truth that had been there
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+5 Points >
all along. Connor’s gentle persistence wasn’t new–it had been a constant throughout my life.
Long ago, when my mother passed away, Connor had quietly started caring for me in
his own way. He’d secretly learned to cook traditional dishes, then arranged for
Dorothy Jenkins to deliver them to me, pretending they were from the elderly woman
herself.
He’d tutored me tirelessly through difficult subjects, helping me gain admission to
Riverdale University despite my grief–stricken state. The marriage alliance proposed
three years ago had been entirely his idea; he’d actively approached my father, eager
to formalize our bond sooner rather than later.
I had fiercely opposed it then, even running away from home to Harbor City. Yet Connor never blamed me for my rejection. For three years, he traveled endlessly between Riverdale and Harbor City just to catch glimpses of me–yet never disturbed my life with Ethan, respecting my choices even when they must have hurt him deeply.
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