The Plane Tickets He Hoarded The Wife He Hid novel Chapter 63

63 Chapter 63 An Unfamiliar Emotion

Blanche’s POV

I positioned myself at the crowd’s edge, peering through the spaces between people, spotting Zain positioned next to the stage.

Though I couldn’t determine his exact purpose there, simply seeing him standing alongside Joanna told me everything–I could sense

how much Joanna truly mattered to him.

The piano’s melody swelled to its peak, and the crowd’s murmurs transformed into admiration.

“Mr. Jacob possesses such refined taste. Miss Joanna isn’t just gorgeous–her piano skills are breathtaking. Any man would be smitten,”

one guest observed.

“Her musical talent alone would be impressive, but that incredible figure makes her absolutely flawless,” another voice chimed in.

These remarks only made me smile wryly.

Everyone showered Joanna with compliments, oblivious to the fact that she was systematically destroying my marriage to Zain.

That captivating exterior might deceive others, but beneath Joanna’s stunning facade lurked a heart lacking any compassion.

Vincent found the commentary equally ridiculous. I was Zain’s spouse, yet the only person capturing everyone’s attention was Joanna.

Frustration overwhelmed me, and I pivoted to exit, but Vincent moved forward, cutting off my escape route. I raised my face toward

Vincent, my eyebrows drawing together in confusion. “Are you hoping to watch me embarrass myself as well?”

Vincent simply grinned, ignoring my question completely. Instead, he grasped my delicate arm, his smile widening as he studied my face.”

Such gorgeous music would be wasted without dancing”

Before I could process what was happening, Vincent wrapped his arm around my waist, drawing me closer with gentle yet insistent

pressure.

He bent down and murmured, “Rest your hand on my shoulder.”

For some inexplicable reason, I complied. I settled my hand on his shoulder, and following his guidance, we started moving together,

swaying to the rhythm.

The Callum Family held considerable status. I had accompanied my brother to numerous social events, mastering ballroom dancing during my teenage years.

Yet this marked my first time performing in front of such a large audience–especially with someone as powerful as Vincent.

Following Vincent’s lead, several other gentlemen began inviting nearby ladies to join them.

Soon, additional couples filled the dance area. Then the whispered conversations resumed.

“That’s Vincent, right? Seems he’s changed partners once more,” someone noted.

“Absolutely, he’s famous for his romantic escapades. Every gathering features a different woman on his arm. He’s probably escorted

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countless ladies to events throughout the years,” another person added.

“Certainly, but this particular woman is quite striking,” someone else observed.

“When has he ever arrived with someone who wasn’t stunning? I seriously doubt Mr. Aarav would accept anything short of perfection.”

“Really, those two make an absolutely gorgeous couple,” someone commented.

“Mr. Aarav appears ready to slip his hands beneath that woman’s gown,” another guest laughed.

As we danced, I noticed Zain glancing in our direction more than once. When I caught his eye across the room, there was something

unreadable in his expression–not quite approval, not quite disapproval, but something that made him pause mid–conversation with his

companions.

This was probably his first real opportunity that evening to truly observe me. I wore a striking crimson dress–daring, yet tempered by

my soft features. The combination made me noticeable without appearing excessive.

Zain seemed transfixed, watching our movements with an intensity I rarely saw directed at me. Something seemed to shift in his

demeanor as he observed Vincent and me moving together so naturally, as though we’d been partners for decades.

I could see him standing motionless, no longer paying attention to the conversations around him.

After some time, the piano melody concluded, and enthusiastic applause echoed throughout the venue.

With everyone watching, Joanna elegantly gathered her dress’s hem and approached Zain, each movement graceful and refined. She

halted before him and spoke tenderly, “Zain.”

I observed as Vincent and I separated following our dance, though Vincent clearly wasn’t prepared to release me. He maintained his grip

on my hand and led me toward the refreshment area.

From my peripheral vision, I saw Joanna tracking Zain’s gaze as it followed Vincent and me. At that instant, her smile vanished, and she

gently touched Zain’s arm. “Zain, what’s occupying your thoughts?” she asked softly.

Zain seemed to emerge from some kind of trance, finally facing Joanna again. I couldn’t hear his response, but I saw him nod when she

spoke about leaving.

Before they could depart, however, Joanna suddenly clutched his arm and said something about photographs. After several seconds of

quiet contemplation, Zain eventually nodded his agreement.

Truthfully, at this stage, most of the evening’s formal activities had essentially concluded.

Vincent and I lingered near the buffet, sampling appetizers and enjoying red wine. Occasionally, business associates approached to share

toasts with us.

Zain experienced virtually identical interactions on his side of the venue.

As the evening wound down, the hosts declared it was time for the concluding photo session.

Only distinguished guests received invitations, and both Zain and Vincent were included.

During the group photograph, Vincent and I were positioned centrally–not due to our social standing, but simply because Vincent had

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contributed the most that evening. Directly alongside us stood Zain and Joanna.

Vincent, who had been occupying the center position, yielded his place to me, and Zain positioned himself right beside me. This was our

first time standing so near–close enough that our hands nearly made contact.

I caught the subtle hint of Zain’s cologne–something expensive and sophisticated that I’d grown familiar with over the years. Standing

so close to him after everything that had happened between us felt surreal, almost dreamlike.

However, the photography session soon concluded, and numerous guests started departing.

I was also prepared to leave. But Vincent positioned himself in front of me and declared, “Sweetheart, allow me to drive you home.” He

maintained that typical flirtatious appeal, making it difficult to determine his sincerity versus mere teasing.

Before I could answer, Zain approached. “Heidi just phoned. Carry’s developed a cold and keeps requesting you.”

Upon hearing this news, I became worried. “Alright, I’ll return immediately,” I replied, my voice filled with concern.

After agreeing, I faced Vincent and explained, “Mr. Aarav, I must check on my daughter, so I’ll leave first.” Following my farewell, I

gathered my dress and exited the hall.

Vincent quickly pursued me. “Sweetheart, let me drive you. Plus, I still haven’t presented you with that bracelet.”

I stopped and turned toward him with seriousness. “It’s far too precious. I truly cannot accept it.”

Vincent also adopted a serious expression. “I purchased that bracelet at auction specifically for you. If you refuse it, then its existence

becomes meaningless.”

I shook my head gently yet decisively. “Vincent, you should offer it to someone who genuinely deserves it. That’s the most equitable

approach–for both you and the bracelet.”

Through these words, I gently but clearly communicated to Vincent that I wasn’t interested in pursuing anything romantic.

While I remained uncertain about Vincent’s genuine intentions, I believed clarity regarding my feelings was essential.

Nearby, Zain stood at a distance, remaining silent. Though he appeared detached, I could sense he was absorbing every word of my

conversation with Vincent. Even Joanna, positioned beside him, seemed to detect the shift in his demeanor–the way he leaned slightly

forward, the tension in his shoulders suggesting he genuinely cared about my response, despite his attempts to appear indifferent.

Having politely refused Vincent’s proposal, I departed the hall. Carry was ill, and as her mother, I couldn’t remain calm.

Despite Carry’s frequent disappointments, my sole desire was for my daughter’s health and safety.

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