Chapter 3: The Man She Chose

For a moment, no one moved.

The grand wedding hall—once filled with soft music and polite murmurs—fell into stunned silence. Faces froze mid-expression, as if the entire audience had been turned into statues.

A wedding turning into a public spectacle was not unheard of among the elite.

But this?

This was unheard of.

Whispers erupted almost immediately, spreading like wildfire across the hall. All eyes shifted from the stage to the man seated at the front row—someone who looked painfully out of place.

He sat there casually, one leg crossed over the other, holding a chicken drumstick in his hand.

He was eating.

And judging by the way he chewed, he was enjoying it thoroughly.

His clothes were neither formal nor casual, as if he had dressed without consulting the dress code at all. His hair was slightly messy, his posture lazy, and his expression absent-minded. He looked like someone who had wandered in by accident—perhaps a distant acquaintance who had followed the smell of food.

Some guests frowned.

Who invited him?

Did he sneak in?

Is he lost?

That was impossible, of course. This was a high-profile wedding. Invitations were strictly checked.

Yet the man truly seemed oblivious to everything around him.

Including Seraphina.

"Lucien."

Her voice cut through the noise.

The man paused mid-bite.

He blinked once. Then twice.

Slowly, he looked up at her.

Seraphina studied his face—conflicted, yet strangely calm.

She did not know whether to laugh or feel annoyed by his expression.

But she knew one thing.

In her past life, when poison burned through her veins and the world around her blurred into hallucinations, her hearing had remained painfully clear. She had heard someone crying—desperately calling her name, over and over again—while carrying her body, running toward the hospital that she would never reach.

That voice had belonged to this man.

Lucien Cross.

The irritating man she had known since college.

The provincial man who never fit into elite circles.

The man who had loved her quietly—while she realized it far too late.

Seraphina smiled.

"Lucien," she said again, her voice steady.

"Will you marry me?"

Lucien stared at her.

Then he pointed at himself.

"…Me?"

His mouth opened, clearly about to speak—

But before he could, someone stormed down from the stage.

Julian Moreau grabbed Seraphina's wrist.

"Seraphina, what are you doing?" he demanded, his smile gone. "Is there some misunderstanding?"

He leaned closer, lowering his voice. "If you don't fix this nonsense right now, remember—the Hawthorne family will fall."

Before Seraphina could respond, Edmund and Margaret Hawthorne rushed forward.

"What's going on?" Margaret asked sharply, her voice tight with panic.

Caleb followed immediately, his face twisted with frustration. "Sister, hurry up and marry Young Master Julian," he said impatiently. "I still need money. I'm planning to marry Anna—do you know how much dowry I need? Eight hundred thousand!"

Edmund's tone hardened. "Seraphina. This is for the family."

Margaret echoed him, her voice now commanding rather than gentle. "You agreed to this."

Seraphina almost laughed.

'For the family?'

The words made her feel sick.

She took a slow breath and looked at them calmly. "Dad," she said evenly, "everything happened too fast. I don't think I was in the right state of mind when I agreed to this marriage."

Julian's face darkened.

Humiliation flickered in his eyes, quickly replaced by irritation. "Enough," he said coldly. "Do you really want to embarrass everyone here?"

He leaned in, his voice sharp. "If we don't get married today, the Hawthorne family will collapse. You know that."

Seraphina smiled faintly.

"Don't worry," she replied. "I have a way to resolve the Hawthorne family's problem."

Her gaze sharpened.

"And outsiders won't need to interfere."

Julian clenched his fists.

That single word—outsiders—felt like a slap to his face.

He tightened his jaw to held back his anger. He looked at Seraphina as if he wanted to assault her.

Seraphina caught the look in his eyes.

The same eyes that had haunted her nightmares in her past life.

Edmund suddenly shouted, "Seraphina!"

His voice thundered through the hall. "Do you want to see our family destroyed?!"

Margaret added sharply, "Are you really going to ruin everything?"

Caleb snapped, "Don't you want me to marry the woman I love, sister?!"

Seraphina looked at them.

And smiled gently.

"Dad. Mom," she said calmly. "This is a family matter. I can solve it without a marriage."

Edmund was about to explode—

But Julian spoke first.

His voice was gentle again, though tightly restrained. "Seraphina… it's such a shame. Everyone is already here."

He smiled, eyes calculating. "Even if you don't love me now, we can take things slowly. We'll understand each other eventually."

Seraphina nearly cursed.

'If I didn't know who you really were,' she thought coldly, 'I might have believed you.'

She shook her head. "Young Master Moreau, thank you for your concern about my family. But you really don't need to worry."

Her smile deepened.

"This wedding will still happen."

Julian exhaled in relief, smiling broadly. "See? I knew you were just confused earlier."

He laughed lightly. "Then let's continue—"

"—I said my wedding will happen," Seraphina interrupted.

"But I never said I would marry you."

Julian froze.

Seraphina turned around.

Lucien was still seated, chewing slowly, watching the scene like it was an exceptionally dramatic soap opera.

She met his eyes.

"Lucien Cross," she asked for the third time, her voice unwavering.

"Will you marry me?"

The hall erupted.

And fate changed its direction.

Lucien took one last bite of the chicken, chewing slowly as if savoring the flavor. When he was finished, he placed the bare bone neatly on the table.

Unhurried, he licked his fingers clean and swallowed.

Then he stood up.

The movement alone drew everyone's attention.

Lucien reached for a wine glass from the table, lifted it casually, and took a slow sip. Only after setting it down did he finally look at Seraphina.

He smiled.

It was not a lazy smile this time—nor was it careless. It was calm, certain, and strangely reassuring.

"Well then," Lucien said, his voice clear and steady.

"Let's get married."