"Call it off?" He arched an eyebrow, as if he'd just heard an amusing idea. "When did I ever say I wanted to?"
"I'm afraid I can't agree to that proposal."
"On the contrary... I'm suddenly finding that marrying you and seeing what kind of trouble you could stir up... might be quite a bit of fun."
Annelise Valentine: "…!!!"
She felt the thread in her mind labeled 'reason' just SNAP.
Staring at Jett Westgate, who was right in front of her, speaking words that could infuriate a person to death in a perfectly calm tone, she felt a furious heat shoot from the soles of her feet straight to the crown of her head. BOOM.
"You... You..." Annelise stammered, but for the life of her, she couldn't string a sentence together.
She had run wild in Veridia for twenty-two years, doing whatever she pleased, and never had she met such a... such a shameless, arrogant jerk!
She took a breath. "Jett Westgate! Are you incapable of understanding plain language, or did someone smash your head in with a golf club?"
"I am trying to have a serious discussion with you about calling off the engagement! Let me tell you something: even if you want to marry me, I have no intention of marrying you! So you can keep dreaming! This engagement is *off*! You don't agree? If you don't agree, I'll..."
She stalled, unable to think of a good threat on the spot. After a few seconds of fuming, she said viciously,
"I'll have your entire golf course replanted with durians! Then you can choke on the smell!"
He replied slowly, his tone casual and almost indulgent. "Suit yourself."
Jett Westgate watched her puffy-cheeked face, thinking she looked like a beautiful little kitten, all claws and bluster but ultimately helpless. Far from being annoying, it was actually a little... cute.
'So angry! Unbelievably angry! So angry it hurts!'
Annelise wanted to curse him out, but her vocabulary suddenly felt completely inadequate in his presence.
She wanted to hit him, but looking at his towering frame that completely dwarfed hers, she figured she wouldn't stand a chance.
In the end, all her roiling emotions coalesced into a single sentence.
"Are you insane?!"
"Do you have the cure?"
Annelise was speechless. It was like they weren't even on the same wavelength.
She spun around and stalked toward the dining room. "You're a psychopath! You're incurable!"
Jett Westgate followed unhurriedly a few paces behind her. Watching her fuming retreat, he twisted the knife with another calm remark.
"Incurable? In that case, wouldn't you be a widow right after getting engaged?"
Annelise was at her wit's end.
She couldn't out-talk him, she couldn't out-maneuver him, and she certainly couldn't out-fight him.
All she could do was try to hypnotize herself. 'Don't get mad, don't get mad, I'm not mad. If I get sick from anger, I'll be the only one to suffer! If I get angry enough to die, who does that please? I can't fall for his trap!'
She picked up her pace, practically fleeing as she burst into the dining room.
Jett Westgate watched her go, shaking his head and muttering to himself, "She's a fast runner."
***
The dining room was already filled with steaming, fragrant dishes.
By the time they arrived, everyone was already seated. Her grandfather sat at the head of the table, with the others on either side, chatting in low voices. The atmosphere seemed quite cheerful and harmonious.
On one side of the round table, only two adjacent seats remained.
Annelise sighed and, as if resigning herself to her fate, went over and sat down.
At almost the exact same moment, Jett Westgate pulled out the chair beside her and calmly took his seat.
Annelise picked up the damp towel before her and slowly wiped her hands, trying her best to ignore the overwhelming presence of Jett Westgate beside her.
But out of the corner of her eye, she could still see the wrist exposed by his rolled-up sleeve and the hand resting casually on the tabletop.
'I haven't even started eating,' she thought, 'and I already have indigestion.'
Mr. Valentine was the first to raise his glass, his face beaming with satisfaction. "Come now, let's not stand on ceremony. It's been far too long since our two families have gathered like this. Today, in celebration of our children's marriage, let's all have a toast. From now on, our families will be closer than ever."
Everyone raised their glasses in turn, celebrating the union that was a "match made in heaven."
After a round of drinks, the atmosphere, deliberately cultivated by the elders, grew increasingly festive and congenial.
Just then, Forrest Westgate—Jett's second uncle, who had been sitting quietly beside Aidan Westgate—spoke up.
"Mr. Valentine, today is truly a wonderful day. Speaking of which, there's a question I've been holding onto for some time."
"How did you and my father meet all those years ago? Your bond is so strong. My older brother and I asked Father about it a few times, but he was never willing to go into detail. All he would say is that you two had a life-and-death bond. Seeing as we have this opportunity today, would you be willing to tell us the story?"
The question was sudden, but it was a reasonable one.
The table quieted down, and all eyes turned to Mr. Valentine.
Even Annelise put down her chopsticks. She was actually quite curious to know how this engagement had come to be in the first place.
Mr. Valentine swirled the liquor in his small glass, his gaze seeming to drift into the distant past for a moment.
After a moment, he began to speak slowly. "Sigh. Seeing everyone here today fills my heart with so many emotions."
He paused, looking at Aidan and Forrest Westgate with an expression of respect and complex nostalgia. "All those years ago... this life of mine was saved by your father, Owen Westgate."
"That was back during the war of resistance. It was a hard time... a truly hard time."
"No food in our bellies, no shoes on our feet. We spent every day in a hail of gunfire, never knowing if we'd see the next."
"Owen Westgate and I met back then. He was different. He was a high-ranking officer who had studied abroad—educated, and brave. He was assigned to lead our unit."
"And I was his adjutant. I followed him."
"Later, on the battlefields of Vaskor..." At this, Mr. Valentine's voice choked with emotion. "That battle... it was so brutal. Our men were falling in droves. The ground was like a sea of blood."
"We were in the thick of it, seeing red, when a stray bullet came flying at me. It was Owen. He threw himself in front of me and took the hit."
"If Owen hadn't thrown himself in front of me... I'm afraid I would have been..."
The old man took a deep breath. "The blast knocked me out. When I came to, I was surrounded by the bodies of our fallen comrades."
"I found Owen covered in blood. The bullet... it had hit right next to a vital organ. I threw him on my back—I don't know where I found the strength—with only one thought in my head: I couldn't let him die."
"Later, I carried him through a blizzard... I don't know how long I ran, but I finally found a family who took us in. That's how we pulled him back from the brink."
"But it was a pity... That bullet... it left him unable to have any more children."
His tone shifted as he looked at the two Westgate brothers, full of relief. "Fortunately, during his years studying abroad, he and your grandmother had already had the two of you."
"Otherwise, my guilt would have been too great to bear."
"After he recovered, he saw that I was consumed with guilt and couldn't get over it. So he joked with me, saying, 'Well, Valentine, my old friend, I suppose you could say I took a hit for you and ended my line in the process, eh? How about this: if you have a daughter someday, you'll marry her to my son. We'll make our families even closer, and that way, you won't have to keep feeling like you owe me.'"