While secretly investigating Celeste's past, Lysander deliberately brought her into the Vanderbilt Group, allowing her to demonstrate her considerable talents.
On the day of the proposal, the grand event was livestreamed globally.
The spectacle played out on digital billboards in major cities, across the internet, and even in cafés and high-end department stores around the world.
Lysander cut an impressive figure in his perfectly tailored black suit that accentuated his athletic build.
His hair was styled impeccably, revealing his chiseled features, while a subtle, contented smile played across his lips.
The scene of this proposal was lavish, grander than most weddings.
Celeste wore a pristine white gown that gracefully highlighted her slender silhouette like a lily swaying in the wind—pure, fragile, and utterly mesmerizing.
Lysander pulled a velvet ring box from his breast pocket, clutched a bouquet of red roses and dropped to one knee before her.
"Marry me, baby."
He called her neither Ophelia nor Celeste—just this simple term of endearment.
Yet viewers around the world watching this scene erupted in excited screams, collectively envying Celeste.
"I want to give you everything—my life, my love, my loyalty. From today forword, you’re the only one for me."
But beneath his composed exterior, anxiety churned. His peripheral vision repeatedly swept the entrance.
Even at this critical moment, Navier hadn't appeared.
The investigation report on Celeste hadn't arrived either.
Was he really going to marry her?
In the past, seeing her face with its resemblance to Ophelia would have made him eager to claim her without hesitation.
But now, that impulse had faded.
Ophelia had truly died—in his arms. He still remembered the sensation of her body growing cold.
Could anyone really come back from the dead?
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