Annelise Valentine turned her head to look at Jett Westgate almost reflexively.
His face betrayed little emotion, but having spent so much time with him, Annelise could always spot the tell-tale signs.
His gaze was fixed on Henry Kingston, a quiet scrutiny in his eyes.
It had sunk in for Jett Westgate, too. And it was obvious he had only just found out himself.
Annelise noticed the air around him instantly turn cold.
Henry Kingston, however, remained nonchalant, as if he had merely shared a casual coincidence, completely oblivious to the bomb he had just dropped. Or perhaps not—it was hard to tell if it was intentional.
Annelise composed herself, wanting to confirm her suspicion. "Mr. Kingston, why haven't we seen the bride?"
Henry Kingston placed his empty glass on a passing tray. "She's not feeling well today, so she's resting. I'll formally introduce her to everyone at the wedding tomorrow."
