Laurel strutted up to us, a smile fixed on her face aimed at Daylen. Ugh, great! The wicked witch of the west came to this party! She wore a golden backless gown that matched the decorations—I bet that was her intention. Ridonkulous. I glanced at Daylen who grimaced at her presence.

"I've been looking everywhere for you, Daylen! It's so good to see you, we missed you at—"

"Not now, Laurel, can't you see I'm busy?" Daylen snapped at her. Mr. Griffith looked like he regretted not slapping him earlier and would have done it again if not for his—ladyfriend.

"Now, now, let's all calm down," Eleanora intervened before sparks could fly. "Ladies, why don't we go get some drinks and give the gents a moment in private, hmm?" Somehow, with a persuasive, determined smile, she shepherded me and Laurel away from Daylen and his father, something neither of us was happy about. Daylen immediately turned to his dad, arguing in a low, heated voice. Uh oh. I couldn't hear what was said, being dragged away from them but it was dangerous to leave my heartthrob alone with him. I glanced back at him worriedly, unable to protest.

"Those dear boys... they really need to work out their differences," Eleanora said priggishly like she was doing them a favor. I snorted under my breath. What does she think, that they'll see eye to eye if they're alone? They're more likely to pull off 'an eye for an eye' move alone. They were like two clashing tides causing a riptide every time they met.

I glanced at Laurel in disgust, seeing her watching me with equal disdain. At least it was no secret that we hated each other's guts.

"So, dears, I trust you're both past eighteen?" Eleanora simpered, offering us both flutes of champagne. Laurel accepted one and downed it immediately but I declined.

"Yeah, I don't drink," I replied.

"I beg to differ," Laurel mouthed off. "I seem to remember you getting completely trollied at the Freshers Ball." What a fibber, I had just one cocktail that night!

"And I seem to remember you acting like a troll the next morning," I threw back, smirking as I saw Laurel's face smart at that. Eleanora gave a condescending laugh.

"Oh dear, everyone seems to be on edge today. Why don't we all start over, hmm? Tell me, do you both go to Kings?"

"Yes," we replied and then glared daggers at each other for answering simultaneously.

"How lovely! I suppose that's how you're friends with Daylen," Eleanora continued. Hearing his name, I turned to where he was but didn't see him—or his dad for that matter. Oh no, where'd he go?

"No, Daylen and I have been friends since high school," Laurel rubbed in while I was distracted, "we have a very fond history together." I turned back to see her smirk this time. I snorted.

"Yeah, until you cheated on him," I mumbled only for her to hear. It worked; she looked ready to blow her top off the next moment.

"How delightful to have two of Daylen's friends here!" Eleanora continued, oblivious to our brewing animosity before turning and addressing me. "But tell me, dear, are you not from around here? You sound distinctly American."

"Oh she is," Laurel answered before I could open my mouth, her voice dripping with disdain, "she's the half-blood daughter of Lady Margaret Westrope." I blinked, too shocked to think up a comeback fast enough. Did that little witch just call me a half-blood?! Oh, heck no, nobody insults my parents that way!

"Margaret Westrope?" Eleanora looked taken aback at that and stared at me. "Then you're—from the Westrope family?" So she knew about Daylen's dad's history. She must be closer with Mr. Griffith than I thought.

"Yes, it's appalling that Daylen even brought her here, Eleanora," Laurel continued, obviously enjoying having an in with the older woman. I was about to give her a piece of my mind when—

"I don't see how it's any of your business whom I bring to my party, Laurel." The husky, thundering lisp of my heartthrob interrupted us, washing me with waves of relief. Yay, Daylen to my rescue! He appeared beside me, intimately looping his arm around my waist as he addressed the two women.

"Now if you'll excuse us, I'm going to dance with my girlfriend." Ouch, yeah, baby! I had to contain myself from doing a victory jig as Laurel looked like a chicken whose head got chopped off at the mention of 'girlfriend'. She must've gotten a shock knowing Daylen heard her. Leaving her mouth agape and leading me away to the dance floor, Daylen took me in his arms as a waltz struck and I automatically fell into step with him, glad to finally get a moment alone with him.

"Howdy, stranger, where've you been?" I asked playfully, hoping to lighten things. His moody expression immediately softened into a little smile as he spoke.

"Giving Captain Hook a piece of my mind." I quietly snickered. Did he just call his dad Captain Hook out loud? Dang.

"Aww, Tinkerbell's here to make you feel all better," I chimed, planting a quick kiss at the edge of his lips, heedless of the attention it drew. Daylen pulled me closer with a soft chuckle in his chest, his eyes gazing deep into mine. I could see there were shadows of tension in them though and nudged him with my shoulder.

"Hey, you okay?" I asked gently. He slowly shook his head before throwing it back for a second.

"No, talking to my father ends up making me feel like breaking something every time."

"Tell me about it," I muttered, knowing what that felt like with Gwan.

"He insults me and Mum in private and then puts on a good face in public, praising me to the skies," Daylen continued bitterly. "He sickens me with his double standards."

"That was really mean, what he said about your mum," I said empathetically. Daylen sniffed.

"Mum brought me up all on her own struggling as a single mother and he has the guts to insult her while sleeping with every tramp in town?! It's despicable to the utmost degree!" I didn't interrupt, knowing Daylen needed to get everything out of his system. "All my ancestors on his side were sick and demented for having affairs and destroying their marriages, but Father has to go and have bloody chatelaines nearly half his age every week!" Daylen spluttered, wringing my hand involuntarily in his emphasis. I let out a little yelp.

"Ow, Daylen, that hurts." His face immediately turned apologetic and he loosed his hold on me.

"I'm sorry, Lys, I just... I don't know how much longer I can put up with this. And Father already recognized you from your name." I bit my lip.

"Should I be worried and flitter out of here?" I asked cautiously, looking around warily for Mr. Griffith. Daylen shook his head.

"He has no right to turn you out without turning me out."

"What did you tell him about me?"

"Nothing. I gave him no explanation, threats be damned. He's not happy that I brought someone from the Westrope family under his roof but he's got no say in the matter as long as I'm here." Daylen swallowed visibly. "But it still worries me, dove. I feel like I put you in the line of fire. I'd whisk you away from here this instant if the consequences weren't dire."

"Mind if I asked what those consequences are?" I inquired timidly. Daylen sighed wearily.

"The usual, dove. Funds. If I don't bend to his will, no college tuition, no rent money." I blinked, stupefied.

"Your dad would sabotage his own son's future just to get his own way?"

"You don't know him, dove. But that's the gist of it." Oh, Lord, why were some parents so heartless? I snuggled closer to Daylen, wishing I could soothe the pain in his heart even though all I could offer him was physical comfort. There was nothing I could say to fix this.

"I can't just break free of his tyranny no matter how dearly I want to," Daylen continued dejectedly. "For Mum's sake. It would break her heart if I dropped out of college and since she can't possibly afford my fees... I can't do that to her. I'm stuck under Father's shackles for the time being." My heart ached for my poor heartthrob. All the money in the world couldn't heal a hurt like his. How I wanted to storm heaven for a solution to all his dilemmas!

"Does your mum know about—any of this?" I asked quietly. He shook his head.

"Not all of it. I couldn't add to her burden, not after the ordeal she's been through. Just seeing her happy and healthy is enough for me to endure alone." Poor Lottie. She had no idea what her son was going through.

"You're not alone, Daylen, you have me," I said tenderly, willing every fiber of love in me to fill his soul. He leaned his forehead against mine.

"I know, dove," he lisped in a heartfelt whisper, "I don't know what I'd do without you." We swayed in silence for a minute, enveloped in each other's arms. I could feel Daylen growing more tranquil as time wore on and was glad that he could draw at least some comfort from me. Laurel sidled near us at one point holding a champagne glass and looking like she wanted to pour it on my head. And she would've too, if not for Daylen's quick thinking, spinning me out of her vicinity just as she appeared to have 'tripped' and sent her champagne flying—right on some old dame's gown!

"Serves her right," Daylen mumbled mischievously as the old dame began huffily reprimanding a shame-faced Laurel. I giggled in delight. Ah, vengeance.

We returned to swaying quietly to the music, our foreheads resting together. One dance on his birthday—I hoped at least this would be a happy memory for my heartthrob. We stayed like that until the song wound down, then he led me to the buffet table.

"You haven't had a bite to eat all night, dove, help yourself," Daylen encouraged me. Not really having an appetite for once, I daintily nibbled on some cheese tarts, watching Daylen greet every guest who began approaching him with superficial pleasantries. He managed to keep me out of their conversations though despite the many curious glances thrown my way. He steadfastly protected me from having to mingle and make conversation—after all, no one in this crowd really knew me (except that rabble-rouser Laurel) and it was safer that way. But as calm as things appeared, they didn't last long. Because as I knew, with blue-bloods, a storm was bound to ensue sooner or later.

"You done, babe?" I asked Daylen once he'd finished greeting practically everyone in the ballroom. He returned to my side looking mentally exhausted.

"I'd rather burn the midnight oil working shifts than endure another minute of small talk," he said tiredly.

"Thanks for not letting anyone interrogate me," I said gratefully, massaging his arm.

"Of course, dove, I wouldn't have let anyone prod at you like you're some exhibit on display. These vultures can be merciless with their tongues." He was right about that.

"Who'd you tell them I was?" I asked.

"Just a date. Thankfully, no one here knows your surname." Almost no one...

"Come on," Daylen straightened up, "let's get out of here now and go get some dinner elsewhere. I can't digest a single morsel in this house. I've fulfilled my obligations to my father and—"

"Ladies and gentlemen," Mr. Griffith began, and Daylen groaned under his breath, "I'd like to extend my gratitude to all of you for coming today."

"Urgh, I sense a long-winded speech coming on," Daylen grunted. Looking irritated, he urgently searched the buffet table for something and plucked a flute of champagne off to drink.

"Daylen, don't, it's alcoholic—" I began, but he had downed it in a second. If only I'd known what alcohol did to my heartthrob. I felt whatever happened next was all my fault. I should've stopped him before things came to blows. But I was too late.

"As you all know, this special occasion is held in honor of my son's birthday," Mr. Griffith continued, swirling a flute of champagne of his own in his hand, "it's one of the few times I break out the good bubbly." The crowd laughed at his little joke before he went on.

"So without further ado, let us toast to my only son and heir, Daylen. Happy Birthday, son." Mr. Griffith lifted his glass toward Daylen, his mouth smiling but his eyes still hard as ice. It was a wonder how he could sugar-coat his words and still look at his son with such malevolence. Daylen played along, picking up another flute of champagne as everyone acclaimed 'cheers!', lifting their glasses.

"Daylen, no!" I whispered in consternation, reaching out to stop him from drinking again. But he was too fast—I saw his Adam's apple bob as the champagne slid down his throat as he tossed it back before I could reach it. I pulled the empty glass away from him, watching him nervously. Two champagnes, how bad could that end?

"Don't drink anymore, please," I pleaded with him. He patted my hand languidly.

"Don't worry, dove, I can hold my own," he drawled in a slurred lisp. Shoot, that alcohol was already starting to take effect.

"And now, I have another important announcement to make," Mr. Griffith went on as if he hadn't finished.

"Cripes, I thought his bloody speech was over," Daylen scowled sullenly. Oh shoot, I sensed a change in his mood again. Mr. Griffith's ladyfriend Eleanora glided up to him, intertwining her arm with his. They exchanged wide smiles as though conveying some secret message with each other before Mr. Griffith turned to the crowd.

"For many years, I'd kept my heart closed off to the possibility of sharing my life with a significant other, believing that maybe married life wasn't for me."

"That didn't stop you from sharing your bed with harlots," Daylen gritted in an undertone. I bit my lip, worry gnawing my insides. Something told me to grab Daylen and go before things got worse but I felt an invisible force hold me in place at the thought of being bad-mannered. Screw party propriety.

"I never thought I'd get the chance to find true love again," Mr. Griffith continued. "As you all undoubtedly know, my first marriage was an absolute disaster of a failure." Titters rose around the room as Mr. Griffith had said that in a way to invoke laughter, like it was some ludicrous matter. Daylen's expression contorted with rage and he swallowed heavily. I held onto him tightly, knowing this was striking home. His mum was his everything and here his dad was talking about her with comical contempt!

"Daylen, let's get out of here," I whispered urgently, not wanting him to hear another word of this. But he shook his head.

"I want to see where this is going," he said, glaring vindictive eyes at his father.

"It's no secret—I played around in search of happiness. I didn't believe in fairytale romances, I thought it was all stuff and nonsense. Until... I met my lovely Eleanora." Mr. Griffith gazed at Eleanora with enthralled eyes and she stepped forward, basking in the admiration of all the guests as they turned their attention to her. I had a bad feeling about this...

"Since I met her, I started to believe an old bloke like me still had a chance at love," Mr. Griffith continued, drawing more laughter from the crowd, "and so it gives me great pride and pleasure to stand here before you all and make this special announcement." Oh no...

"I have found the love of my life, the woman of my dreams and I intend to spend the rest of my days with her." Mr. Griffith took Eleanora's hands in his own and a flash of a huge diamond which she'd kept hidden now glittered on her hand. I gasped, utter horror filling me. But I knew the way I felt was nothing to what Daylen must be going through.

"Ladies and gentlemen, my dallying days are over. May I present, the future Lady Eleanora Griffith, my bride." Cheers and applause rose from the crowd while I covered my mouth with my gloved hand, completely floored. Eleanora was not his temporary main squeeze, she was gonna be his new wife?! How could Daylen's dad spring this on him on his own birthday?!

What would this do to Daylen? To be forced to be family with some strange woman he obviously disliked from the start... this was another direct insult to his mother! If I felt bad for Lottie, I couldn't imagine what Daylen must be feeling!

I was about to find out—because before a minute had passed, there was a terrific crash of shattering glasses and an ear-splitting clang of metal on the floor near me. I let out a squeal being startled, stumbling back. The noise was enough to bring a deadly hush on the crowd and everyone turned to its source—Daylen. He had taken a tray full of champagne glasses and slammed them to the floor in a fit of temper. He must've reached his limit. He marched to the middle room, wild fury blazing on his face at his father.

"That's a damn hypocrite's line, spouting about love when you know nothing of it," he vociferated in front of everyone. Shoot, shoot, shoot, that was the alcohol talking, I knew! Gasps rose from the crowd as the drama unfolded and Mr. Griffith's reddened with rage.

"Daylen, control yourself! I'm warning you—"

"I will not be silenced anymore!" Daylen clamored, his voice resonating throughout the room. "I will not let you get away with talking about my mother that way in public!" Oh, Daylen...

"You betrayed her, cheated on her, treated marriage like a bloody joke, lived a profligate life," Daylen raved on, "and you have the gall to talk about love?! You've been shagging every chatelaine in town, living a life of lust and insulting my mother," Daylen slammed his fist to his chest, his voice cracking, "whom you abandoned and you think I'll be silent about it?!" Oh heaven, it was like the floodgates of his emotions burst open. Tears filled my eyes for him as I felt all the pain spill out of his heart. I took a step forward though my legs were trembling seeing him like this. I had to put a stop to this!

"Daylen, what are you doing?!" Laurel had the nerve to rebut him, latching her arm on him first but he shook it off violently, ignoring her like she was nothing more than a buzzing fly.

"And to top it all off, ha," Daylen threw his head back as he continued, his tone becoming heavily sarcastic, "you pretend to be the father of the year while throwing that woman in my face—" he pointed a derogatory finger at Eleanora, "on the very day that my mother gave birth to me?! Did you expect me to welcome your next filthy harlot into the family?!"

"SHUT YOUR MOUTH!" Mr. Griffith bellowed, his voice rattling through the room like a peel of thunder. But Daylen didn't back down.

"You might walk the road to hell with all your harlots but you'll damn well never drag my mother's name through the mud again!" I gasped in horror as Mr. Griffith gave Daylen a resounding slap on his face, sending him staggering back.

"Daylen, please..." I cried. I finally found the strength to speak up and ran to Daylen's side, clutching his arm to hold him up. He didn't push me away but his seething eyes never left his father's fuming face.

"You ungrateful brat... you've always been a disappointment to me—now you're nothing more than a disgrace to me," Mr. Griffith rasped at him in bitter ferocity. "Behaving like this in front of everyone... I'm ashamed to call you my son. I should've disinherited you a long time ago." Daylen raised his head, his spirit still unbroken.

"Disinherit me? I'd rather be disowned by you and be free of you and this wretched hellhole!" He raged back, though I could see there were unshed tears in his eyes. "Because of you and your damn philandering, you've been a disgrace to me my whole life!"

"Daylen, stop, please..." I pleaded, not wanting him to suffer anymore. I could feel him shaking with all the anger he was pouring out. Mr. Griffith exhaled heavily, absolute contempt exuding from his expression as he spoke.

"Very well. You're no longer my son. Get out of my house." The crowd gasped audibly. Daylen didn't hesitate another second. He grabbed my arm and with a few large steps, strode out of the ballroom, pulling me along without a backward glance.

Please tell me you're still breathing after that explosion 🥺. Apologies for the heavy chapter if it was too much for you. Don't worry too much.