Micah nodded and smiled so much that his neck began to ache and his cheeks felt stiff like plaster. The corners of his lips jerked, muscles protesting, but he kept grinning anyway. The grand hall buzzed with people filtering in, row after row, a mix of familiar faces and total strangers. After half an hour standing beside his parents, Micah's head was spinning. His vision blurred slightly with the movement of tailored suits and shimmering gowns, and chatter kept going on and on.
Every few seconds, someone would begin to offer shallow compliments or throw suggestive smiles, their eyes darting toward him like he was a prize on display. Some even were bold enough to mention daughters, prospects, and fate with poorly disguised intent.
Micah's jaw clenched.
They were trying to confirm whether the viral post was true, whether the Ramsy heir, the so-called 'famous waste', was really taken, or was still a chance to shove their daughters into his path like bait.
