Mrs. Winslow —wife of Aiden Winslow.
What was so special about that title?
No one understood.
"Winslow —which influential family is it?" someone asked, curiosity laced in their tone.
"I don't know, never heard of it."
"Could it be some new family who recently shifted here?"
"There has been no such news."
But Castille's earlier words had caught everyone off guard. The murmurs rippled through the hall again, hushed yet insistent, each person leaning closer to the next, seeking answers. But getting none.
It seemed like none of them had heard it before.
Lorien watched them all, and his lips curled up in a slight smirk before he spoke again.
"I, Lorien Castille, am known for only serving the royals," he said smoothly, his voice carrying the note of pride and unmistakable weight. "Yet even with such priorities, I came down personally to serve Mrs. Winslow's request. Who do you think she is?"
People were stunned.
Of course, they knew Lorien Castille —renowned jewellery designer to royalty. He doesn't accept commissions from just anyone. He doesn't attend parties that are not useful to him. He doesn't deliver.
But still, tonight, he did.
It couldn't be simple.
Realization dawned upon everyone, leaving everyone stupefied. No matter how rich Quinns were … no matter how wealthy and reputed the Davies name was, still that couldn't make Lorien Castille come down like this.
Then with whom did Arwen get associated with to enjoy that rare of rare privilege?
"Mr. Castille, we know of your identity, of course," someone said from among the guests, sounding hesitant but eager. "And that's precisely why we were confused before."
They were all rich and wealthy, but they were still nowhere near the royals. But given how Lorien Castille mentioned Winslows, it felt more superior than the royal family of Cralens.
"Yes, another chimed in, "we couldn't imagine what would bring you here … until you revealed yourself."
Others nodded in agreement.
"But if you don't mind —could you tell us who exactly this Aiden Winslow is? Who is this man that even you would answer his request?"
"Aiden Winslow," Lorien took that name with high reverence and it was very evident in his voice, "is not just an eye-candy as Mrs. Quinn mentioned. He is the heir of the Winslow family that dates back in the Cralen's history as old as the royals."
"They might have been forgotten here, but they never lost the charm in the world," he continued. "And that could be easily be proved by how the royals still respect them the same."
Everyone was stunned. Winslow wasn't a common surname, but after hearing Castille speaking so much, they remembered there was once a prestigious Winslow family in Cralens.
When Catrin heard it, she staggered a little on her feet, clearly stunned. It was hard to tell what was feeling inside.
Lorien watched her for a second before checking down at his watch. There was a good big history to narrate on Winslows, but he felt it was unneeded. He said enough to let everyone know that Aiden was not some simple man.
Brenda nodded before walking to the car that was parked right at the entrance.
***
Meanwhile, a sleek black Mercedes sped toward the southern part of the state.
Inside, the air was tense, thick with unsaid words and emotions.
Aiden remained silent, but his body betrayed the storm within. His jaws clenched tightly, the muscle in it flexing with each passing moment. His fist was curled on his knew, twitching every so often as he stared at Arwen beside him —withdrawn, quiet and closed off.
He wanted to destroy every person who had made her feel like this.
But could he?
Even if she had severed ties with her family, she would never want him to do something she would hate.
And he didn't want to be someone she resented —ever.
"Aiden …"
Suddenly, her soft voice broke the silence.
He turned instantly, every part of him, ready to offer her anything she asked for. But still when she did, it left him stunned …
"Can you hold me in your arms, please?"
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