Chapter 1289: noveldrama

Pearce faltered, his words caught between his thoughts and his tongue. Several times, he opened his mouth to speak, only to clamp it shut. Jayden, ever perceptive, arched an eyebrow. “If you’ve got something brewing, spit it out already.”

Finally, Pearce sighed, meeting Jayden’s gaze with exasperation. “Ever consider you’re seeing Elyse all wrong?” Pearce’s tone was firm. “You think she’s fragile, but she’s anything but. She’s solid, dependable, and more than capable of handling anything life throws at her.”

Jayden’s brows furrowed, his lips tightening, but he didn’t interrupt.

Pearce’s voice softened. “You’ve gotta stop clinging to the Elyse you’ve imagined. Look at the one in front of you—the one standing tall and handling everything like a pro. She’s far from breakable.”

As he finished, Pearce shifted his gaze back to Jayden, his expression incredulous. The longer he looked, the more convinced he became that Jayden was utterly clueless. How had this man not pieced it together? Pearce wondered—if Jayden couldn’t grasp something this obvious, how had he become so successful?

Meanwhile, Elyse remained blissfully unaware of the conversation. She was engrossed in navigating the crowd, making connections, and leaving her mark.

In just thirty minutes, she had gathered a small circle of admirers, her charm and confidence weaving an effortless spell. Pearce approached her quietly, leaning in. “You’ve been on your feet a while. Want a breather? The night’s still young; no need to overdo it.”

Elyse smiled, shaking her head. “I’m fine. Everyone’s been easy to talk to—no troublemakers yet. They’ve all been surprisingly accommodating.”

But as the words left her lips, a sharp, cutting voice sliced through the conversation.

“Well, it seems I arrived late. I hope my tardiness hasn’t soured our gracious host’s mood.”

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The chatter stilled as heads turned, all attention drawn to the older woman who strode toward Elyse, the crowd parting like waves.

The woman carried herself with undeniable authority, leaning slightly on a cane yet retaining her regal bearing. Her dark purple dress complemented her gray hair, styled into an elegant updo. Though her face bore the marks of age, her sharp, piercing eyes suggested a vibrant, unyielding spirit. It wasn’t difficult to imagine her as a stunning beauty in her youth.

Elyse leaned toward Pearce and whispered, “Is that…?”

Pearce’s expression grew serious. “Celeste Griffin.”

The name hit Elyse with unease. Celeste Griffin—Cody’s teacher and her father’s mentor. What could bring such a formidable figure to her banquet?

Elyse felt apprehension. Whatever Celeste’s intentions, they couldn’t be taken lightly. Yet, she kept her composure. Celeste was a guest, and Elyse knew better than to falter. Putting on her most gracious smile, she stepped forward. . . .