A force came from the side, and Titus Zane's wrist was suddenly gripped tight. With an alarmed shout, his instinctive reaction was to break free from the restraints and flee.
A familiar voice arose above him, low and stern.
"Titus Zane, it's me!"
The sudden appearance of Nathan Moore slowed Alder Locke's steps. He had been worried that Titus Zane would escape and had rushed over faster, but now…
In the banquet hall, all the guests' gazes were directed their way, some surprised, and some whispering secrets.
Seeing Nathan Moore grabbing Titus Zane's wrist, not to flee together, but rather to step towards him, Alder Locke's chest tightened, and he stood still in his place.
In the corner near the stage, chairs were arranged as if at a wedding feast, with two elderly men sitting on them. Seeing the man who had suddenly appeared, they stopped their conversation, their smiles fading from their faces.
"Mr. Zane, who is this man?"
