Over the years, Maxwell had managed to accumulate a decent network of contacts.
Now, it was finally coming in handy.
Seeing him blend into the crowd like a fish in water, Nathaniel felt a bit of relief. He then turned his gaze back to Lyra.
She looked so much like her.
If he had been able to ignore it before, now, just looking at Lyra made the lingering loneliness in his heart unbearable.
It was as if the emotional attachment that had been homeless for years had finally found a new vessel.
Lyra felt the gaze resting on her, but when she turned to trace it, she saw nothing out of the ordinary.
Maxwell was chatting animatedly with a group, and Nathaniel soon joined them.
Ezekiel was surrounded by a throng of people, their faces practically plastered with sycophantic smiles.
Preston was mingling with the wealthy heiresses. Though his reputation as a playboy was well-known, his handsome face and elite background still earned him plenty of favorable attention.
As for Miles, Lyra didn't see him anywhere; she had no idea where he went.
Come to think of it, she hadn't seen Marcus in a while either.
Speak of the devil.
Just as she thought of him, someone sat down next to her.
Lyra turned her head and saw Marcus taking a sip of champagne before looking over at her.
"I saw you heading for the door earlier and thought you were leaving. Why did you come back?"
She didn't answer him. Instead, she pointed her empty glass toward Maxwell.
"Instead of wasting time with me here, you'd be better off going over to say hello. He is your blood relative, after all."
Reminded by her, Marcus finally noticed Maxwell, who had arrived without him noticing. The smile vanished from his face, instantly replaced by a deep, burning hatred.

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