Chapter 505: Chapter 505

All the lights in the banquet hall were directed toward the entrance, drawing every gaze in the room.

Soon, the slightly portly figure of Earl Aiston emerged under the spotlight.

Dressed in the classic attire of an E-country gentleman, his face bore the warm, welcoming smile of a gracious host.

As one of the more prominent figures within the royal family, his presence frequently graced the pages of major magazines and newspapers.

Thus, not only was he familiar with the upper family of E-country’s society, but also to the international guests in attendance.

After nodding courteously to the crowd, Earl Aiston turned his attention behind him.

"President Luther, Mrs. Luther—"

His deferential tone and posture stood out distinctly in the hushed hall.

Baffled expressions spread across the faces of the guests as their eyes followed the earl’s line of sight.

Just who were these two, to command such respect?

Harrison’s grip on his wine glass tightened involuntarily.

There was only one person who could be addressed as "President Luther"—Sinclair.

But how could this be?

His pupils contracted slightly as he turned to look in Mr.Thomas’s direction.

Mr. Thomas wasn’t looking at Harrison.

His gloomy gaze was fixed somewhere behind Easton, though the glint in his eyes carried a venomous edge.

Once Sinclair made his move against Harrison family, he’d be the first to slaughter this little bastard to avenge Thomas.

Finding no clues on Mr. Thomas’s expressionless face, Harrison withdrew his gaze—only to collide with another pair of eyes that radiated gentle yet undeniable presence.

Taylor observed Harrison’s visibly altered expression, the amusement in his eyes deepening as he redirected his attention to the entrance.

Even he hadn’t anticipated Sinclair would make such a dramatic entrance.

"It’s Sinclair and Camilla!!"

Melissa immediately set down her dessert and sprang up from her seat at the commotion, her eyes brimming with anticipation as she stared toward the doorway.

The man’s features were as sharply defined as if carved by a master sculptor, his handsome face bordering on perfection.

His tall, imposing figure stood there effortlessly, yet he seemed to occupy an entirely different plane of existence.

Exuding an air of untouchable nobility and icy detachment.

"Sinclair is as dashing as ever!!"

Melissa sighed with genuine admiration.

This was a truth she’d known ever since she could form coherent thoughts.

No sooner had the words left her lips than she felt the weight of an intense gaze beside her.

Without turning her head, she rolled her beautiful eyes and deliberately drawled,

"But... not really my type."

Only then did Vicente’s furrowed brows relax, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

So it really was Sinclair!

Mr. Thomas had sent so many men after him, yet none had managed to lay a finger on him?

Harrison’s grip on his wine glass tightened until his knuckles turned white.

Wait—that didn’t add up. If that were the case, Mr. Thomas shouldn’t even be here tonight.

What exactly was going on between these two?

Juliet, sharp as ever, noticed Harrison’s unusual tension and glided over.

"Harrison, what’s wrong?"

Her soft voice was laced with genuine concern.

Harrison felt a warmth spread through his chest, the icy glint in his eyes melting away as he wrapped an arm around Juliet’s slender waist.

"Don’t worry, everything’s under control."

Whether it was Mr. Thomas or Sinclair—no matter what they were plotting—he wouldn’t let them off the hook.

It might take some effort, but he’d make sure of it.

Juliet could tell Harrison wasn’t planning to share the details, so she simply nodded, wise enough not to press further.

Her gaze drifted toward the most striking man in the grand hall.

The women around them had also turned their attention in the same direction.

His’s unbelievably handsome!"

"I’ve attended plenty of high-society banquets in San Francisco with my father, but I’ve never seen him before."

"Same here. Sinclair doesn’t look familiar at all."

"Lilian, you’re from San Francisco—you must know him, right?

The woman named Lilian stared at the man’s devastatingly handsome face, barely containing her excitement as she nodded.

"That’s Sinclair, the head of the Luther Family in San Francisco."

She had only seen him once before, at Grandpa Luther’s birthday celebration—but a face like that was impossible to forget.

"The *Luther Family*?!"

The woman’s eyes widened instantly upon hearing this.

"Wasn’t it said that the head of the Luther Family was utterly ruthless and hideously—"

Before she could finish, Lilian clapped a hand over her mouth, warning sharply,

"Seeing is believing.

The rumors about his looks are false, but his temperament is very much real.

The muffled woman nodded hastily.

The other women continued their chatter.

"Sinclair’s so aloof yet devastatingly handsome—even more captivating than President Nolan!

I’m completely smitten!" Murmurs of agreement rippled through the group.

Yet another man whose looks, aura, and status bordered on perfection.

Lilian curled her lip at their starry-eyed expressions and doused their enthusiasm with cold water.

"Don’t even dream about it.

Haven’t you noticed the woman by President Luther’s side?"

Her gaze lingered on the lady beside Sinclair, envy flashing in her eyes as she added,

"Sinclair treats his wife like fragile treasure—cradling her in his palms for fear she might shatter, holding her in his mouth lest she melt."

Sinclair’s devotion to his wife was an open secret among San Francisco’s elite.

And lately, whispers swirled that he might even pass the family’s leadership to her.

Perhaps it wasn’t just a rumor after all.

In more liberal foreign circles, especially among the elite, such affairs were hardly uncommon.

The women who heard this seemed unfazed.

So what if he had a wife?

No man could resist temptation.

That’s what they told themselves, yet their gazes still burned with envy and jealousy as they lingered on Camilla.

The men, too, after sizing up Sinclair, inevitably found their eyes drawn to her.

Dressed in a pristine white pearl buttons gown. she revealed nothing, yet exuded an ethereal, untouchable beauty.

The peonies embroidered on the fabric seemed to compete with her radiance—it was impossible to say which was more breathtaking.

From every angle, she was flawless.

Amidst a sea of Western gowns, she stood out effortlessly, a vision of elegance unlike any other.

Without even trying, she outshone them all.

And beside that aloof, aristocratic man, she looked nothing less than perfect—a match made in heaven.