C5 The Late Protection

The girls were at a loss and instinctively turned to Aimee for guidance.

Aimee was irritated that they had let her down, failing to handle the situation and inadvertently exposing her. Yet, since they were acting on her behalf, she felt compelled to defend them. "Hitting someone is never the right answer," she asserted.

"There's an order to right and wrong. If you're at fault, you need to reflect on your actions before pointing fingers at others," Eddie interjected, his sharp intellect grasping the crux of the issue. He was somewhat displeased with Aimee's handling of the situation, which cast a chill over the atmosphere.

Ken arrived just in time to witness the scene and scolded, "What's this commotion about? Today is your sister's wedding day. Isn't this embarrassing enough? You're just like your mother, always causing trouble."

"I..."

"Silence! Apologize to your sister this instant!"

"Why should I apologize when it's clearly her fault? She sent someone to shame me," Aimee retorted, feeling wronged.

"I've always been good to my sister. I have no idea why she would say such things about me," Aimee protested with a hint of distress in her voice.

Ken's anger flared even more upon hearing this. "You come here to disrupt the engagement party and now you're trying to blame Aimee? Is this what your mother taught you? Such malice at such a young age."

The crowd around them grew, but Aimee couldn't help feeling a sense of schadenfreude, eager for everyone to witness Hilda's current state of disarray.

Hilda stood there, head bowed, her spirit seemingly drained, resembling a discarded doll left for onlookers to mock.

Out of nowhere, a suit carrying the fresh scent of masculinity was draped over her shoulders.

She lifted her head in bewilderment, her gaze colliding with a pair of clear, profound eyes.

Kimball...

The man she least expected to see had appeared so quietly and unexpectedly that his name caught in her throat, burning with intensity, yet the surreal nature of the moment left her speechless.

His expression was serene as he tenderly grasped her cold hand with his warm one, gently pulling her along in a silent departure.

His arrival was as abrupt as his exit, leaving many in the crowd unable to get a clear look at him. They saw only the retreating figure of a striking man, sparking an even greater buzz of speculation.

"Who was that just now?"

"I couldn't see his face, but he had a remarkable presence. I wonder which family's son he might be."

"He looks somewhat familiar."

"He might be from the Walton family..."

Someone murmured, but the name was too startling to mention in such a setting, so they stopped short.

"Which family?"

"How many Walton families are there in Criarbridge?"

People gasped in disbelief. Could it really be him? He was known for his aloof demeanor, never involved in any romantic scandals. How could he possibly be mixed up with a cunning illegitimate daughter?

The black car raced off, turning the passing scenery into fleeting shadows.

Kimball glanced at the person next to him. Since leaving the banquet, she had been out of sorts. Her dress was stained with red wine, and her once meticulous makeup was largely ruined, leaving her looking quite disheveled.

"Aren't you usually so tough and aggressive? Why couldn't you speak up to your father?"

Hilda slowly turned her head, her face regaining its composure. "My mother is under his control. I can't."

"Really?" Kimball responded with mild indifference. "Are you about to recount your years of hardship now?"

Hilda's brow furrowed. "I don't need your pity, even if I am miserable. Stop the car!"

The driver, seemingly deaf to Hilda's command, kept the car speeding along.

Kimball gracefully crossed his legs and clasped his hands over his knees, turning to Hilda. "My driver doesn't take orders from just anyone, and besides—wasn't it you who clung to me? What now? Playing hard to get?"