Ophelia Gets Thrown Out (Ophelia) novel Chapter 62

**Paths Lead To Purpose — Kevin Masters**
**Chapter 62**

A silent scream reverberated within the confines of Zoe’s mind, a frantic whisper of disbelief. *This isn’t right. It was supposed to be me.* The thought echoed, a painful reminder of the situation she found herself in.

Ophelia, taken aback, blinked in confusion, her brow knitting together as she processed the unexpected request. “You want me to look after you?” she echoed, her voice laced with incredulity. How had this weighty responsibility suddenly fallen into her lap?

“Naturally,” Alaric interjected, his voice dripping with an air of certainty, as if his assertion was the most rational conclusion anyone could draw. “It’s the only appropriate way for you to express your gratitude, isn’t it?”

“That’s enough, Alaric,” Ophelia snapped, her tone dropping to a low, menacing whisper that hinted at her rising frustration.

*Is he genuinely enjoying this?* The thought flared in her mind, igniting her irritation. The last thing she desired was to indulge in his little game, to dance to his whims.

Yet, despite her flustered demeanor, there was an undeniable spark of charm in her expression that did not escape Alaric’s notice.

Catching the dangerous glint in her eyes, Alaric recognized he had ventured too far. Ophelia had never been one to tolerate foolishness, and pushing her any further would only make her more difficult to manage later.

With a nonchalant shrug, he relented. “Very well, have it your way.”

Just as Ophelia began to relax, he added, “You needn’t assist me. Simply having your company will be more than enough.”

Before she could voice her objection, he seized her hand, guiding her toward the banquet hall.

“Let go of me,” she snapped, yanking her hand free with a fierce determination.

“Alaric, keep your distance,” she warned, shooting him a glare sharp enough to cut, before striding ahead with purpose. The mere thought of sharing a meal with him was enough to completely ruin her appetite.

“Stubborn as ever,” Alaric muttered under his breath, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he followed her without hesitation.

Left standing alone, Zoe observed their departure, a wave of bitter humiliation crashing over her like a cold tide.

“Pathetic,” came Daphne’s scornful voice as she approached, her tone dripping with disdain. “They’ve left, and you’re just standing here gawking. Don’t you have any self-respect?”

“Daphne,” Zoe started, her eyes glistening with unshed tears as she forced herself to adopt a placating tone, “We should join the others. The banquet is about to start, and everyone is waiting for us.”

“Seriously?” Daphne shot back, exasperation evident in her voice. “Your fiancé just walked off with another woman, and you’re worried about the banquet?”

“It’s Grandpa’s seventieth birthday. I don’t want to upset him,” Zoe replied, mustering all her courage to put on a brave face.

Daphne snorted dismissively. “No wonder everyone walks all over you. You’re far too soft.”

“Please, Daphne,” Zoe pleaded, trying to steer the conversation in a more positive direction. “Ophelia is new here. It’s only natural that she’d want to make a good impression. We should be more understanding.”

“I’m sure Grandpa would appreciate that,” she added, intentionally invoking the name of their grandfather to sway Daphne.

At the mention of their grandfather, Daphne’s mood darkened instantly.

“She thinks she can just waltz in and steal his favor? I won’t let her get away with it. The Rowle family isn’t hers to command,” she hissed, shooting a venomous glare in Ophelia’s direction.

*This isn’t over,* Daphne thought bitterly, her resolve hardening. *I’ll make her pay for the humiliation she caused me today.*

Meanwhile, Ophelia settled into her seat, casting a disapproving glance at Alaric, who had taken up residence beside her.

*When did he become so insufferably persistent?* she thought, irritation flaring within her.

The senior relatives occupied the main table while the other Rowles mingled with their personal guests, laughter and chatter filling the air. Ophelia had chosen a discreet corner seat, hoping for some peace, only for Alaric to follow her uninvited.

“Mr. Caldwell,” she said coolly, her voice laced with an edge of annoyance, “there are plenty of other seats available.”

His decision to sit beside her felt deliberate, as if he wanted the other guests to speculate about their relationship.

“This suits me just fine,” Alaric replied nonchalantly, though his gaze was scanning the room with a protective intensity.

Across the hall, young scions from prominent families were stealing glances at Ophelia, their interest palpable and evident.

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify