After the awkward scene with Sona was resolved, Evan slumped back into his chair, letting out a long, heavy exhale. The tension in his shoulders finally began to bleed away.
"Fortunately, I reacted quickly," Evan muttered, wiping a bit of imaginary sweat from his brow. "Otherwise, I would have been entangled by that fool for the rest of the afternoon."
Elara chuckled, her eyes sparkling with amusement as she watched him. "My husband is just too awesome. Even the fools can't help but fall for you."
"Oh? Then does that make you a fool, too?" Evan teased, leaning in close with a wicked grin.
"Uh..." Elara stammered, her face turning a delicious shade of pink as she searched for a comeback.
But before she could find her tongue, a shrill, piercing cry shattered the festive atmosphere of the inner courtyard. It was Sona. The bride came sprinting back from the direction of the bridal chambers, her expensive silks disheveled. she collapsed onto the dirt, rolling around and wailing in front of the entire assembly of high-society guests.
Mr. Black rushed forward, his face pale with concern as he helped his daughter up. "Sona! What is it? What happened?"
"My husband... my husband is being bullied! He's screaming in the house!" Sona sobbed, her voice echoing off the stone walls.
"What?"
The courtyard erupted into an uproar. While the simple-minded Sona might not have understood the implications, the adults in the room certainly did. A man screaming in a bedroom on his wedding night while the bride was outside? The guests began to whisper furiously, their eyes darting toward the back of the mansion.
"Being bullied? And yelling like that?" a woman whispered nearby. "Isn't that... an intruder?"
"Let's go! I want to see who is bold enough to pull such a stunt in my house!" Mr. Black shouted, his face darkening with rage. He led a small army of curious guests and angry servants toward the wedding chambers.
Evan watched the crowd surge away. He frowned, noticing a glaring absence. "That's strange. I haven't seen Mrs. Black since the ceremony ended."
"Who knows where that old crow is?" Elara shrugged. She reached onto the table, snatched up two large, juicy chicken drumsticks, and handed one to Evan. "Come on, let's go see the drama."
The group arrived at the secluded courtyard of the wedding house. Oddly, there were no guards at the door—a massive breach of protocol for a family as wealthy as the Blacks. As they approached, the sound became unmistakable: the rhythmic moans and cries of a man and a woman in the throes of passion.
Mr. Black's face turned a mottled purple. He clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white. "Bold thieves! These adulterers dare to perform such lewd acts in my home on my daughter's wedding day? Break down the door!"
A stout female servant stepped forward and delivered a powerful kick, sending the door crashing inward.
The crowd poured into the room, and the sight that met them was scandalous. The groom was sitting on the edge of the bed, his wedding robes torn and disheveled, clutching a quilt to his chest in a state of sheer panic. Next to him, the blankets were humped high, clearly hiding another person.
"Get them! Hit them hard!" Mr. Black screamed, pointing at the bed.
The servants didn't hesitate. They swarmed the bed, raining down blows and kicks upon the hidden figure under the quilt. The thuds of fists hitting flesh were punctuated by muffled cries.
"Stop fighting! Stop! It's me!"
The voice that emerged from under the blankets was jarringly familiar. Even so, the servants—perhaps fueled by the chaos—didn't stop immediately until Mr. Black froze.
"Dad... that sounds like Mother," Sona said, her voice small and confused.
"What?" Mr. Black's jaw dropped. "Stop! Stop, you fools! See who it is!"
The servants pulled back the quilt, revealing a naked, bruised old woman. It was indeed Mrs. Black. The silence that followed was heavy and suffocating.
"How... how could it be you?" Mr. Black gasped.
The guests behind him were in shock, but the shock quickly turned to venomous gossip.
"My god, it's Mrs. Black herself!"
"That old chandelier is at it again, stealing her own daughter's husband. She's lost all shame."
"This banquet was worth the trip; the drama is better than the food!"
The scene was tragic. Mrs. Black, seventy years old and having just exerted herself in a 'hot fight' with the groom, couldn't handle the shock and the subsequent beating. Her face was gray, and she lay motionless.
"Wife! Are you okay? Speak to me!" Mr. Black rushed over, kneeling by the bed and shaking her limp body violently.
Evan, watching from the doorway, winced. Is he trying to make sure she's dead? Shaking a seventy-year-old woman like a salt shaker after a heart attack isn't exactly medical best practice.
A doctor was summoned, and after a frantic examination, the verdict was grim: She was alive, but barely. She had suffered a massive stroke brought on by exertion, high blood pressure, and the terror of the attack. She was now essentially a vegetable.
Mr. Black turned his fury toward the trembling groom. "It's your fault! You vixen! You seduced my wife and ruined her! You harmed this family!"
"No... it wasn't me! She forced me!" the groom cried, his eyes wide with terror.
But Mr. Black wasn't listening. "Take him away! Hand this man over to the guards!"
"No need for that. The guards are already here," a cool voice announced. Maya stepped through the crowd with her subordinates.
"Captain Maya! You must seek justice for us!" Mr. Black wailed, tears streaming down his face.
"Our office will handle it, sir. Take him to the prison," Maya ordered. As the groom was led away in chains, the guests began to filter back out into the main courtyard, sensing the party was over.
Evan pulled Elara back to their table in the inner courtyard. He didn't waste a second, picking up his cold chicken leg and eating with renewed intensity.
"You came back just to eat?" Elara asked, surprised by his appetite.
"Don't be stupid," Evan whispered between bites. "This 'happy event' is turning into a funeral. Once the mourning starts, the food stops. If we don't eat now, we'll go home hungry. Pack some of those pastries in your sleeves!"
Elara realized the logic and joined him, the two of them eating voraciously while the rest of the house was in mourning. Evan looked at the spread, wishing for a plastic bag. A man can dream, he thought.
Just as they were finishing their fill and preparing to slip away, the head housekeeper approached their table. His expression was solemn and respectful as he bowed to Evan.
"Mr. Evan, I have an invitation for you. Mr. Black wishes to see you privately."
Evan froze, a piece of chicken halfway to his mouth. "The Master is looking for me? Now?"
"Yes. Please, come with me."
Evan glanced at Elara, his mind racing. What does that old man want with me in the middle of this disaster? He stood up, dusted off his robes, and followed the housekeeper into the depths of the mansion.