Each luxury car that rolled to a stop outside the house was a masterpiece in itself—every one a limited edition, every detail boasting top-tier configuration. It was enough to make anyone stop and stare.
The members of the Wynn family were no exception.
Even Isabella, usually so poised and smug, couldn't hide her disbelief. Her brows furrowed deeply as she turned toward the village chief, her voice full of suspicion.
"Village Chief, did you make a mistake? Are you sure they're here for Elara?"
The village chief chuckled, eyes twinkling with amusement as he replied, "I may be old, but I'm not deaf. I know exactly who they asked for."
It was only then that Grandma Wynn seemed to snap out of her daze. She suddenly remembered Elara's words from the previous day—something about getting married soon. At the time, she'd scoffed, thinking Elara had landed a nouveau riche husband at best. But this? This was beyond her imagination.
The family Elara is marrying into wasn't just wealthy. They were powerful.
Without hesitation, Grandma Wynn clutched Elara's hand with a sudden burst of warmth, her wrinkled face blossoming into a sugary smile.
"Oh, my sweet Elara! Such a blessing you are to this family! Grandma had no idea you had such good fortune. When did you meet this rich young man? How naughty of you to keep this secret! You should've told Grandma sooner—you almost gave me a heart attack from the surprise!"
Just moments ago, Elara and her mother had been the targets of ridicule, standing awkwardly off to the side in their plain, worn-out clothes. Now, in an instant, they were the stars of the show—Grandma's prized granddaughter and beloved daughter-in-law.
Isabella, still lurking on the sidelines, couldn't help herself. Her voice dripped with sarcasm.
"So what if he's rich? Do you think rich, handsome men just fall from the sky into Elara's arms? The only ones willing to marry her would be old, fat, and bald—basically desperate uncles."
But before she could finish her cruel remarks, the driver of the leading Rolls-Royce stepped out. He was sharply dressed, exuding the same quiet authority as someone important—except he was just the driver.
And then, the car door opened.
A single polished shoe touched the ground. Then, a long leg extended with deliberate grace.
Gasps rippled through the crowd.
As the man stood, his tall frame cast a commanding shadow, and when his face came into view, everyone fell into stunned silence.
Damien Rourke.
Sharp-featured. Cold-eyed. Incredibly handsome, with a magnetic presence that seemed to steal the air from the room—or in this case, the entire village courtyard.
He barely glanced around, yet his aura alone made everyone instinctively straighten their backs.
Elara already knew how dazzling he was, but even she couldn't help being caught off guard by the sheer impact he made. The stunned expressions around her were proof of just how overwhelming his presence could be.
Isabella looked as if she'd just swallowed a lemon whole.
"No… No way! This… This can't be real!"
Mother Wynn was no better, standing there slack-jawed, unable to look away.
Damien was everything anyone could ever dream of—beauty, wealth, status, and an intimidating confidence that set him apart from ordinary men.
As if the spectacle wasn't enough, Mrs. Rourke emerged from the car next, her bearing elegant and composed. Her sharp eyes swept over the crowd, quickly spotting Elara and her mother, whose clothes were clearly the oldest and most worn.
Her brow creased slightly but smoothed over just as quickly. With practiced grace, she approached Grandma Wynn and said warmly,
"Dear in-law, I've brought my grandson today to formally propose. We've also brought a few small gifts—nothing much, just a token of sincerity. I hope you won't mind."
Damien followed politely, bowing slightly.
"Grandma," he greeted.
As he spoke, the servants behind them stepped forward in unison and opened the ornate boxes in their arms.
Gasps filled the air again.
Inside were rare, expensive tonics—ginseng, deer antler, sea cucumber—and even an exquisite tea set made entirely of pure gold. Each box contained wealth unimaginable to a village like this.
Grandma Wynn's eyes nearly popped out of her head.
Isabella's mother-in-law stood frozen, gaping shamelessly.
Just moments ago, their family had smugly shown off a Santana 2000 and a meager 3,000 yuan dowry. Compared to the gifts laid out now, their so-called bride price was laughable.
Even if they sold their entire house and car, they probably couldn't afford a single item from these offerings.
Face flushed and trembling slightly, Grandma Wynn quickly recovered and invited Mrs. Rourke and Damien into the house with an enthusiasm she hadn't shown in decades.
Elara gave Damien a cautious glance, unsure of what to make of this entire charade.
As he passed by her, Damien subtly reached for her hand, interlacing their fingers in a show of quiet intimacy. His grip was firm, possessive.
Elara flinched, instinctively pulling her hand away, but he leaned in and murmured under his breath,
"Even if we're faking it, act like it's real. Don't embarrass me in front of them."
"…Fine," she muttered, reluctantly allowing him to lead her inside, their fingers entwined.
From the corner of his eye, Damien caught her compliance and couldn't help the glint of satisfaction that flickered in his gaze.
It was the first time the two of them had ever appeared so close in public, and the unfamiliar sensation made Elara's heart thud a little faster.
She considered pulling away again—but before she could, his grip tightened.
Damien's hands were strong and refined, the kind that most women would fawn over. But for Elara, his touch felt like a leash, one that pulled her deeper into something she didn't fully understand.
She had no idea what outrageous demands her greedy grandmother might make next—or how far this farce would go.
And yet, somehow, there was no turning back.