C4 Something Happened!

Evelyn was animated as she spoke, her expression unchanging even as she feigned a sharp intake of breath, pretending to be in discomfort. The reporters exchanged puzzled glances, seemingly taken aback by her candor.

She was just a young girl, yet her words were so brazen.

Throughout the entire time, Leslie remained silent. Seated in his wheelchair, he gently tapped his fingers against his knee. Without uttering a word, a subtle smile played at the corners of his mouth.

Ever since he received the confession text, he had someone investigate Evelyn's background. Her family was reputable, untainted. She herself was vibrant and optimistic. Indeed, seeing is believing. He never needed anyone's protection, but in that moment, he felt an unexplainable sense of comfort.

He glanced at the girl beside him. Simple, unpretentious, kindhearted... She clenched her small hands, her body rigid as she navigated the barrage of questions from the reporters. All this, to fend off the derogatory remarks.

A warmth began to thaw the icy tip of the iceberg within his chest.

Another reporter pressed on, "May I ask, what is your relationship with Mr. Andrews?"

As the microphone approached, Evelyn was compelled to respond. She flashed a smile, her cheeks flushing with a feigned shyness as she looked directly into the camera, her tone confident yet humble, "Of course, Leslie and I are in a boyfriend-girlfriend relationship."

Her face beamed with a smile, but inside, she was in turmoil.

Evelyn was seething. Why had she agreed to marry this man, this 'uncle'? She had only met him once. To sell herself so short seemed like a terrible bargain.

As her frustration mounted, the microphone was already being passed to Leslie.

"Mr. Andrews, is what this young lady said true, or is it a joke?"

"Yes, yes, Mr. Andrews, we'd love to hear your response!"

"Mr. Andrews..."

Microphones crowded around him, each one eager for his reply.

Leslie remained seated, silent in his wheelchair. His deep, tranquil gaze and the slight closure of his eyes exuded an air of undeniable nobility that left the reporters breathless.

Evelyn bit her lip, her bewildered gaze fixed on the man beside her, wondering what he would say if he claimed her words were just a joke.

Isn't that just her hitting her own face?

How mortifying!

Just then, the previously indifferent man curved his lips into a smile and cast a sidelong glance at her, chuckling, "She's not wrong, you know."

With just that, the room erupted in a collective murmur of astonishment.

Before the reporters could launch into a frenzy of questions, Leslie announced, "Her name is Evelyn. She's my girlfriend, and my fiancée."

Their eyes locked in a silent exchange.

One was taken aback, the other wore a serene smile.

The reporters were gearing up for more questions when Leslie fixed his gaze on Evelyn and said simply, "Let's go."

He maneuvered the wheelchair through the throng, intent on leaving.

But the reporters weren't about to let them off that easily.

"Mr. Andrews, when did your relationship with this lady begin?" they persisted.

Their doggedness was grating.

Leslie's face clouded over with visible irritation.

He stood tall, brushed aside the microphones with a sweep of his hand, and bore into the reporter with a deliberate intensity, "My patience has run out."

His commanding presence was overwhelming, leaving the crowd breathless.

Evelyn, standing just behind him, felt the full force of his aura.

Before she could even process it, his deep, resonant voice filled her ears, "Evelyn, let's go."

They made their exit, leaving the tumult behind.

They hadn't even reached the car when her phone began to ring.

It was Lucille, her sister.

Why would she call out of the blue?

As the call connected, Lucille's voice, laced with urgency, came through, "Evelyn, you need to come home right away. There's been trouble."