Chapter 585

Nathan's voice cracked with desperation, his eyes brimming with helplessness. He couldn't think of a single way to salvage this disaster.

The sight of this cursed remarriage had enraged him, trapping him in a position he didn't deserve.

But more than anger, Nathan felt something deeper—something that made his pride crumble.

He had never knelt before anyone since adulthood. Yet if bending his knee could prove his sincerity, he would do it without hesitation.

Under the harsh lights, Evelyn's gaze remained sharp, fixed on the stage. Not a flicker of emotion crossed her face at Nathan's words.

Her lips curled slightly, a hint of disdain playing at the corners.

"Don't," she said coldly. "It'll just shorten my life."

Did he really think one act of humiliation could erase everything?

Dream on.

Vivian's words only fueled the fire, steering the disastrous remarriage further into chaos.

Tristan stood to the side, the picture of a man who deserved public scorn. Yet the sorrow in his eyes was so raw, so intense, it made people hesitate.

Was this genuine regret, or just another act?

Tristan had believed he could start fresh, build a new life. Instead, he'd walked straight into a dead end.

The timid country girl he'd once dismissed—the one who never dared speak up—had orchestrated this public downfall with precision.

Good. Very good.

In that moment, Tristan realized he knew nothing about Vivian. Not even that she was a lawyer.

The Whitmore family swiftly ushered guests out of the banquet hall. No one wanted to linger and witness the spectacle.

Then, out of nowhere, a little boy bounded onto the stage. Innocent. Adorable. Utterly oblivious.

He tugged at Vivian's hand, his voice sweet and earnest.

"Miss, don't be sad! You're so pretty—you'll find someone way better! I can introduce you to my daddy!"

The crowd paused, intrigued.

Vivian blinked, startled. Where had this child come from?

Tristan's expression darkened further.

Insult to injury.

Little Oliver saw this as the perfect opportunity. If he could get the Pretty Lady with Daddy, he'd have her all to himself!

Perfect plan.

"My mommy's gone," he announced cheerfully, "but Daddy's rich! He'll take care of you. You can be my new mommy!"

Vivian frowned but couldn't resist ruffling his soft curls.

Oliver took that as agreement. His grin widened.

"When I grow up, I'll never hurt my wife like Uncle Tristan or Uncle Nathan. Daddy says men who hurt girls are the worst!"

The crowd stifled laughter. The tension eased—briefly.

Then realization struck.

Uncle Nathan?

He'd just dragged Nathan Blackwood into this.

A public slap in the face.

All eyes flicked to Nathan.

Shadows clung to him, his expression icy as he fought to keep his composure.

Don't lose it. He's just a child.

But the air around him crackled with barely restrained fury.

The Whitmores hurried the remaining guests out.

Evelyn stepped forward, holding out her arms. "Come here."

Oliver happily leaped into them. "Pretty Lady, did I do good?"